Ares
by persephonella
Summary: COMPLETE. AU. Canon-inspired. Nearly eleven-year-old Percy's attempts to run away from home gets him far more than he'd ever bargained for. Encountering an Azkaban escapee, procuring an illness that brands him as dangerous by Ministry standards and being sorted into Slytherin, he tries to find his way back home again. DARK. Percy/Audrey endgame.
1. Chapter 1

_**edit, September 14th** : this chapter was reviewed by my Fred (insert standard heart emoji) and small corrections have been made._

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Chapter One

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"Stop it!" Little Percy yelled out hotly to the twins, as they furrowed about the house with his book collection – six books in total, small, frayed and light. "Give them back to me _now_!"

Instead of obeying his wishes, they snickered and parted. Each twin was carrying three books tucked under their arms. They were trying not to dissolve into laughter, and Percy was trying not to dissolve into tears.

"You're going to have to catch us, Perce!" One of them – George, no – Fred – called out.

Percy was exceedingly frustrated. He paddled his little legs towards one of them, but they always seemed to make the right turns, not to add on that Percy was clumsy. He felt air skedaddle from his lungs, and a burning feeling linger in his chest. He was tired of running after them, and his head pounded at their laughter.

" _Stop it_!" Percy called out in desperately. "You're ruining the covers... _I'M TELLING MUM_!"

George – or Fred – had grabbed onto Percy's leg which made him tumble. They were now running in close proximity to the other, up the stairs. To wreak even more havoc, no doubt. By the end of today, the only thing left in this house will be a few nose-biting teacups and a rubber wand.

The little bookworm stood up abruptly anyway and followed them upstairs.

"I've got you now!" Percy called out in a maniacal delight.

He ran towards their room – they always hid in their room, and always expected Percy _not_ to find them. He tried to open the door but they seemed to have gotten a hold of Charlie or Bill's wand because the doors were locked with a charm!

"I'll tell Bill that you've been stealing wands to do charms _again_!" he threatened, banging on the door.

He could hear them laughing. Minutes banging and knocking on the door until he felt like his knuckles would bleed, when they must've lifted the charm; he fell inside.

Percy fell flat on his knees, taking in a mouthful of carpet. He looked up, noticing torn paper before him.

They seemed to sit there, laughing, but Percy's eyes were on his books – his precious books, torn to shreds, pieces in seconds. They were the only thing he had! They were all birthday presents and he used to read them over and over again. He used to mark things he thought were witty and interesting with sugar quills.

He had nothing else apart from those books, and they were _GONE_ now _!_ This wasn't fair…

His heart was beating speedily. He felt tears fill his eyes. They planned this. They wanted this. All they ever wanted was for him to be unhappy, they just seemed to make his life miserable. They couldn't just sit alone with their precarious things from Zonko's (some of which Percy was sure they stole) and eat their precious Honeydukes chocolates. They couldn't leave him alone. They had to ruin EVERYTHING.

Suddenly, he felt himself grow cheerless with a realisation.

He had only had six books, and now, he didn't have anything.

He wanted to bang his head against the wall. He felt so bad, so worthless and useless and…

The twins had stopped laughing and they were currently looking at Percy with confusion. Hot tears were falling down his cheeks.

" _I hate you! I hate you! I hate you_!" he snapped coldly. He'd rather have glumbumbles for brothers than them.

He let out an ear-curdling scream that was followed by a series of sobs that left his speckled body. Strands of ginger curls somehow found their way to the front of his eyes.

He left the room before they could say anything.

He didn't think he could hear them say anything without him trying to strangle them, like he felt like doing many times before. He went to his empty room and he locked himself inside. He stared at the empty walls of his empty room.

He turned around and pushed his heavy (but empty, empty, _empty_!) bookcase towards the door.

He didn't want anyone to come in and see him like this; red-faced with puffy, red-rimmed eyes and shaky hands. He saw the knob of the door turning, but, fortunately, the twins couldn't get in.

"Go away!" Percy sneered. "Just go away! Leave me _alone_!"

"We're sorry, Perce!" One of them said.

"Honest!" the other reinforced.

" _Shut up, shut up, shut up_!" Percy announced in a high voice.

He stared back at his empty bookcase, feeling absolutely awful. He just wanted to get away. He wanted to go away, disappear and become invisible. His mum and dad will come home, and they'll take the twins' side. They'll wonder why he locked the door when he was supposed to be watching them.

He collapsed on his bed, and curled up in foetal position.

He was silent for a few minutes and the twins stopped hammering on his door. His head was still hurting. Somehow, Percy fell asleep, and he was rudely awoken by someone knocking on the door.

"Percy!" it was Charlie's voice, and he sounded so…so _disappointed_. "Have you locked the door? How have you locked the door? Have you stolen my wand? Have you put a charm up?"

Percy's stomach lurched. He would never steal Charlie's wand!

"Open this door or I'll tell mum and you'll be in a lot of trouble," Charlie threatened and now, Percy felt horrified. Not only did he not look after the twins when he was supposed to, but Charlie thought that he had stolen his wand when he hadn't.

" _Percy_!"

Percy jolted up. He didn't know what to do. He just wanted to go away. He caught sight of his window. The climb from it wouldn't be too bad, but he was terrible at climbing. He moved forward and saw that nobody was there in the yard.

His hands were shaking and he felt so sick. He didn't have any books to pack with him.

" _Percy, open this door or I'll break it! And you'll be in real trouble then!_ "

He'd never been in trouble before. It scared him. He was always so good, but now, he wasn't and everyone hated him. He felt a knot in his stomach drive his actions. He was quick to grab clothes and put them into his bag, trying to get as much in as possible.

He kicked his bag down to the bed when he saw Charlie was able to wedge the door, and soon after that, open it. He seemed to pull the bookcase apart from the door and stare at him.

"Mum and dad are so disappointed in you," Charlie started off immediately. "What have you done?"

Percy looked down at his feet. "I didn't steal your wand. It was the _twins_."

"You always blame the twins," Charlie reminded Percy after some point. "The twins blame you. They said that you stole it and were going to pin it on them."

Percy's mouth dropped did that to him? After they destroyed his books? They wouldn't dare. He had held back tears from rolling down. He'd already embarrassed himself enough tonight.

"I didn't," he reinforced. "I would never. They're lying! They're _always_ lying! _I hate them! I hate them_!"

"Percy, they're family," Charlie cooed, sitting down on Percy's bedside.

Percy didn't believe that. He felt like this family was an absolute nightmare, to be honest. All he did was watch the twins drool on each other, and he didn't have any hobbies of his own, except for reading.

"I hate them," Percy repeated, placing his head into his dimpled, chubby hands. "I wish they'd just go away."

"Don't say that," Charlie insisted in a stern voice. He placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Come downstairs for dinner. Mum's very upset with you. She was glad nothing had happened to the twins."

 _The twins, the twins, the twins_! All that anyone could talk about was the twins!

Almost as if on cue, Molly appeared towards the doorway and sighed deeply, staring down at Percy with a grave look in her eyes.

"What have you done, love?" she called out to him. He didn't know why she called him love anymore. He apparently had done _terrible things_ , and he deserved nothing now. "Fred and George told me you've stolen Charlie's wand and locked yourself in your room, is that true? You're supposed to be watching the twins."

"They could've been hurt, Percival."

The new voice was his father, and Percy felt like melting into an unidentifiable puddle right then and there. He had disappointed his father, the man that he wanted to impress the most out of his not-so-little family.

Molly nodded in agreement with Arthur.

"They lied," Percy called out, still trying to stand his ground. Molly looked like she believed him, but Arthur looked like he didn't. He tried to stop himself from shaking – only his mum loved him, and she probably only felt sorry for him. "They lied. I swear they did. They—"

"My wand!" Charlie called out in complete and utter joy, as he picked up his wand from Percy's drawer.

Suddenly, Percy realised what the twins had done: they'd probably taken both Bill and Charlie's wand, and they planted Charlie's wand in his room. They used Bill's wand to do the charms, and they'd probably put it back. They were clever, but they used that cleverness to do stupid, reckless things.

"I _didn't_ take it," Percy insisted. "The twins did this. They're not stupid. They did this to me. I swear."

Molly didn't look like she believed him anymore. Now, even his mum doubted him.

He felt himself sink. He had six books, and now, they were all gone. He thought he had a family that loved and supported him and believed him, but he didn't. He was not going to stay here, because he did not belong here. He did not laugh or smile or play Quidditch, or do the things that the other Weasley boys did.

He only sat there, and read books, and now, he couldn't do that either.

"Stop lying, Percy," Arthur insisted, sighing deeply. "It's a terrible habit. The Malfoy's lie all the time. You don't want to be like the Malfoy's, do you?"

"No," Percy said, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry."

He decided to accept that they'd never believe him. He watched Charlie and Arthur leave, but his mum stayed there, staring at his empty bookcase.

"What happened to your books?"

Percy shrugged, and looked down. "I threw them away. I don't like them anymore", he said, not mentioning the twins. He knew she wouldn't believe him.

Molly hugged him. He cherished it, because it was probably the last he'd ever get from her.

He stayed in the room, and went downstairs when dinner was ready. He shot a glare at the twins. He surely would not miss them wherever he was going. He had a few Galleons saved, and he was going to take them with him. He was going to disappear, because he hated it here and they took his books.

That night, his mum served roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and skinny green beans. There were also big brown bread rolls, and she served apple crumble for pudding.

He ate everything that was set out in front of him and then some more.

He thought of what he would be taking with him. Percy hoped he wouldn't be too tired when he left. It was going to be very late, and he was going to cllimb through the window. The house was so creaky that he doubted he could leave through the door without alerting all of Ottery St Catchpole.

Besides, he could get caught, and then he'd get into big, big trouble.

He thought of getting another plate of apple crumble, but decided against it. He didn't want to be greedy. He had just wanted to taste his mum's cooking one more time before he left, but maybe he shouldn't.

Percy hoped he had enough money to buy things for himself. He'd been saving up money for years.

Maybe when he was good and better, he could come back home, and maybe they'd like him. He might get his Hogwarts' letter soon, but he was so terribly frightened. He was such a coward most of the time. There was no way he'd be in the same house as the rest of the family. He felt himself grow ill with discomfort.

He stayed a while when Charlie and Bill were fighting about something that Percy didn't really feel interested in. It was, no doubt, something about dragons. Percy was sure that one day, Charlie would marry a dragon and mum wouldn't mind as long as Bill cut off his growing hair. The twins were staring at each other. Little Ron was quiet, and even littler Ginny was still eating whatever was put in front of her.

When he tired, he went to sleep.

He woke up very late and stared at the clock. It was half past two in the morning. It was still dark outside.

He wrote a few notes and hid them. He picked up his things, and climbed through the window. He fell at the last few steps, and had scraped his knee. He kept himself from crying out. Percy hated it when he got hurt, but he had to be incredibly cautious; he couldn't wake anyone else up.

He started walking away from the Burrow.

Percy took one more look at it, and then he darted forward. He didn't know where he should go. He just thought to walk until he found somewhere else. He had no hat to put over his head. He was going to stick out, with his ginger hair, and his pale, freckled skin. He stared into the darkness, not entirely sure on where to go or how far he'd actually get away from his house before collapsing.

He just wanted to go back home, but he just couldn't. He'd probably get in trouble for trying to run away, and he refused to get in trouble twice in one day.

Besides, they didn't want _him_ and he didn't want _them_ either!

IT was sunrise when Percy decided to sit down on a small log. His feet were aching, his knobby knees full of bug bites and scabs from running into large branches, and tripping consistently on the uneven, wibbly-wobbly paths in the woods. He ended up running around in circles a few times, and encountered a few Whomping Willows along his path. He felt trapped in the lands of many tall trees and noxious fumes erupting from the earth's surface.

His throat was aching for water. His stomach was empty. He was a tad bit peckish – if he did not find anything to nosh in within the next three hours, then he would be absolutely ravenous.

The trails were clearer now, and his feet were hurting a lot less. He put on his awful shoes (why didn't his parents ever buy him nice shoes? These were ancient), and trudged along to the path that seemed the furthest from his house. He had passed the Lovegood household that night, and had noticed that even in the hours of four in the morn, their lights had been on. It had made Percy wonder why they'd do such a thing! How would they sleep with the lights on?

As he trotted along, he heard sounds that were becoming clearer as he went along. It took a good five minutes of walking before he recognised the sounds. The sound was of a girl screaming.

The sound became clearer and louder, as he continued on his chosen trail. He felt a mixture of anxiety and exhilaration. He hid behind a branch that was much larger than his five-foot-six frame, and in that moment, he was paralysed by fear as he recognised the sight of the man that had been covering _The Daily Prophet_ and _The_ _Quibbler_ 's face for the past few months: Alec Lestrange.

Alec Lestrange was a man that was wanted for murdering girls using Unforgiveable curses. He escaped Azkaban a few months back, and many were looking for him ever since. The Minister had placed a handsome reward on his head.

Lying on the ground next to the man was a girl that had long, flowing blonde hair that went down to her soft thighs. There was a small tear in her short but tight ruby red robes. A streak of crimson was gushing rather adamantly from her lips, and she looked more alarmed than Percy usually did when the twins found a way to open their mum's charmed biscuit tin.

Alec Lestrange laughed maniacally, and threw away his wand, almost as if suggesting that he did not need magic to torment her.

The wand landed close to Percy.

Alec Lestrange circled the long-haired blonde, eyes mad with giddiness. He picked up a curl from her golden head and stared at it for some time. He laughed again before pulling out a small vial from his pocket. Percy was too far away to be able to see the colour. He force-fed the vial to the girl, and her hair grew almost immediately. In seconds, it covered the grounds, bright, bountiful and blond. The curls were entrapping her, wrapping around her neck. She looked like she was being suffocated, tears running down from her face.

Percy picked up the wand from the ground, eyes on the girl that were being trapped by locks of her own fair hair. Alec Lestrange thought it had to be funny that the girl would die by something that she might've cherished the most – the hair that was so beautiful it mirrored the colour of gold.

Percy had heard stories about how Alec Lestrange made their victims detest the things that they loved the most minutes before their death, and it made him uneasy. He remembered his mum telling him once that he'd put a five-year-old boy under the Imperius curse, and forced him to murder his mum in cold blood when they'd been in their safe house. It was sudden and unexpected. Percy had never seen his mum cry so much.

He gripped tightly onto the wand, and stared. His heart pounding and racing, as he tried to remember one of the few spells he knew from reading Bill and Charlie's Defence Against the Dark Arts books. As he watched the blonde being strangled by her own hair, he simply said the first spell that came to mind, " _Oppugno_!"

That was when Alec Lestrange looked up in resentment. Percy felt his heart stop.

Before the Azkaban prisoner could come anywhere near him, the blond locks that she had made immediately soared up in the sky, like golden snakes and wrapped around Alec Lestrange's body. Their hold on his body was strong and ferocious. This man was weak. He was no true Lestrange. Weak, and he was made of blood, meat and bone. Percy watched as the locks got so tight he heard Alec Lestrange scream. There were potions that had slipped down from his coat, _vials_ of them.

"You'll pay for this, Weasley, you'll _pay_! I will remember your face for the rest of eternity!"

Percy's mind was raking up for more spells. What was the one that his mum used when she ran around the house, trying to cut off Bill's hair but ended up cutting their curtains instead? Oh, _"Diffindo!"_

He did not know whether or not the spell would work, but Alec Lestrange had no wand to counteract it. He was helpless without his wand. Wait, if he didn't aim properly, wouldn't that cut her head off...? Just as that _brilliant_ possibility came to Percy's mind, the long, moving locks detached themselves from the blonde's head. But they still seemed angry. They moved to attack Percy, but years of taking care of the twins made him super alert to these sorts of things. He dodged her Medusa-like hair, falling beside the Alec Lestrange's vials.

The used-to-be blonde stared over at him in surprise. Whatever had been left of her hair were diminutive tufts that were shorter than Percy's own hair. As he took her appearance in, he shoved the wand into his bag, knowing that stealing Lestrange's wand would better his chance of survival. He turned to collect the vials, unsure of whether or not he would need them on his long journey to a new home.

A chill made him shudder when he was hit again, causing Percy to bounce from the field down to a tree. If that tree was a Whomping Willow, Percy doubted he would survived between the tree and the tresses.

In that instance, an Auror had managed to apparate into the fields, alarming Percy greatly. He did not meet the Auror, but he knew his face. Percy didn't doubt that more Aurors would soon be sweeping the fields to bring Alec Lestrange back to custody. He did not want to go home and if the Auror found him here, he would take him back to the Burrow. He would be in big trouble!

He turned to the girl, gestured for her to follow him and then he immediately started to run. The Auror did not follow him, or them. When Percy glanced back, he saw the Auror put up his wand in the air and waved it, probably to signal more Aurors to come to the site to take Alec Lestrange away.

Percy realised he had limited time now. He had the blonde girl running with him. Together, they ran down the woods of a thousand Whomping Willows, which they just barely dodged. They ran past the river, which Percy would kill to get a drink of. They ran past what felt like miles of horklumps, crushing them beneath their feet. They exchanged names as they ran in case they parted ways.

Her name was Penelope Clearwater.


	2. Chapter 2

_**edit, October 3rd** : Fred has revised this chapter. corrections to grammar has been made._

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Chapter Two

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Percy's feet felt like they had been jabbed by small pricks. One branch dug into his ribs when he had been trying to run, and he was bleeding coarse thick, red blood for a while now.

He had no idea where he was, but he was far away from home – deep in the neck of the woods.

The girl that was walking with him _– Penelope Clearwater_ – was tired too, feet both red and brown from blood and dirt. There was a stream a few minutes away, and the water was charmed to stay fresh as many of the streams in the woods were these days. The fish, however, were small and scarce.

Percy glanced at the beautiful blonde. Her skin seemed so soft. She had light, innocent eyes and a body that had begun to curve due to the excessive fat that she was carrying. Curvy or not, Percy found himself enticed simply because she was a _girl_. He hadn't ever talked to a girl that wasn't his mum.

Right now, far away from his house, he felt safe, and the safety reminded him of how tired he was. He was starting to feel genuine hunger prickling and twisting about in his belly.

Penelope sat on a rock, placed her head in her hands and cried for a few minutes.

Percy tried to restrain his own need to cry and beg for home. His body was pulsating with dull aches and colicky cramps. Everything hurt from all the running. With hunger in mind, Percy looked through his bag. He'd stolen some food from Charlie and Bill's rooms before he disappeared, and some more food from downstairs because he was not too sure of how long he'd be walking out in the open.

He pulled open his bag, and picked up one of the big custard tarts he had taken with him. Somehow, they were in one piece, but he supposed that his mum had charmed them to stay intact considering, well, the twins...blimey, the _twins_! Who was going to take care of them now?

 _You've come this far. You're not turning back just to have your face painted blue in the morning by those out-of-control nine year olds, are you?_ The logical part of him chimed. _Besides, think of how much trouble you'll be in for leaving!_

Percy moved towards Penelope and offered her a custard tart.

"Typical," she said, as she picked up the custard tart from his hands and took a bite almost instantly. "You boys see a girl crying and think that the only way to make her feel any better is to offer her _sweets_!"

Percy raised an eyebrow, "Well, you're eating it, aren't you?"

She chuckled, and looked away, cheeks rosy as a grin spread across her face.

"And you're smiling, aren't you?" Percy added on in his stern-like voice, before smirking, "Therefore, I conclude that I'm very right in believing that sweets might make you feel less poorly."

"You're bloody awful!" Penelope decided, scoffing down the last of the tart. "Have you anymore?"

Percy looked over at his bag, and offered her two more of his custard tarts.

She blushed and picked them up from his hands. They were big, but she seemed to be hungry. Penelope slowly chewed onto the base of one of the custard tarts, allowing it to break and melt into her mouth. She looked pleased as she ate.

She was laughing by the end. A drab of custard sat on her lips, which she wiped away with her tongue.

Penelope then asked, "Why are we running away from Aurors? We didn't do anything wrong. In fact, you're a hero, aren't you? You...you saved me from _Alec Lestrange_! My father has been trying to find him for ages. My father, the one that put him in Azkaban in the first place, but..."

She paused, looking down. "Lestrange found me."

A smile found its way to her lips, "But then you did, and you..." she shook her head in absolute amazement. "Really! You did the Auror's job for them. I'm not stupid. He was going to kill me. Everyone knows what Alec Lestrange is, and what he does. Everyone knows what he did— _what he did to those girls_. How he cut them into pieces, like they were bits of paper."

"You really think so?" Percy suddenly asked in a soft voice.

His cheeks were red by then. A hero? Him?

Penelope nodded her head. "Yes!" she then added on, "I think if I spoke to my father, he'd be able to give you an Order of Merlin for being so _courageous and bold_! Your family will be so happy!"

Percy paused for a few moments, and looked down at his feet, "I don't have a family."

Penelope's suddenly cheerful expression disappeared. "What do you mean you don't—?"

"I just don't!" Percy's voice was highly defensive, and he was obviously upset.

Penelope still had one more custard tart in her hand, and she was staring at it for a while. She offered it back to him, and he rolled his eyes. He did take it though, simply because he was absolutely famished. As he chewed, he found himself missing the safety of his house. He remembered how his mum used to heat up those custard tarts, and put dabs of her homemade strawberry jam on top, or those times she put lashings of double cream on special holidays.

He suddenly found himself wanting nothing more than to turn back and go home.

"Maybe it really just works on me," Penelope announced, noticing his lack of smiles after he consumed the tart, which didn't weigh heavy at all in his belly like usual, "or maybe it's because you're always grumpy."

"I am _not_ ," Percy insisted, feeling despondent. He remembered Charlie saying that to him last Christmas.

He stood up from where he had been sitting, and flipped his bag over his shoulder. The trail seemed to stretch on for days, and he had no idea where his final destination would be.

Penelope rolled her eyes, and walked alongside him. "Where are we heading?"

"Down that trail," he was gesturing down the path they were taking. It seemed to have less Whomping Willows than the other paths and it seemed clearer. The woods were abundant with ticks and pixies at the moment. It would be a hard journey.

She shook her head, saying an "I know _that_ " in a matter-of-fact tone before adding on, "I mean why are we taking the path that we're taking? Why are we running away from Aurors? We could've just stayed there. I recognised the Auror—"

"Why did you follow me?" Percy suddenly cut her off.

Penelope seemed stunned at this question, and found herself smiling. "I followed you because I was scared, and thought you'd keep me safe."

"We're safe, aren't we?" he suddenly asked, ducking from a tree branch. His feet were killing him.

Penelope, again, seemed rather surprised by his question, "I...I suppose we are."

She didn't say anything for a few minutes. He could feel her eyes on him, examining him. Percy didn't know what she was thinking of – his frame, his eyes, or his hair. He did not know if she was able to tell who he was by his freckled skin and red curls.

"You're not like other boys, are you?" Penelope suddenly stated before adding on, "You don't just sit at home, playing Exploding Snap and Quidditch now, do you?"

"I _despise_ Quidditch," the redhead stated. "And I don't understand why people play Exploding Snap."

He did not know what to expect when he told her this. He looked back and saw that her eyes were a lighter blue somehow, and she seemed to be rather joyful for a girl that was stuck in the middle of nowhere with the most boring Weasley on the planet.

He felt himself go sluggish as he walked alongside her. When he could not take it anymore and they seemed to be far away from where they had started, he found himself collapsing to the ground, eyes red and body aching. Percy's head was heavy, and he found himself immediately placing his head in his lap and attempting to sleep. Suddenly, he realised how much he missed his rickety bed, and his dusty pillowcase. He missed how the floorboards of his room squeaked as he walked. He missed the smell of his irregularly shaped bookcase which was made very poorly by Charlie and Bill as a birthday gift.

Penelope laughed and shook her head. "I suppose I could go for a nap."

"Oh, yes," Percy muttered, yawning as he pressed his head against a log. He was too tired to care about his feet in the mud, and his hair on unhygienic wood. "An eight hour nap should suffice."

That was when Percy fell asleep to the sound of her laughing.

MOLLY woke up that morning exceptionally early, as she always did. She often would chat merrily with herself as she made breakfast.

Today, she could barely keep track of her own thoughts. A swarm of guilt filled her chest first thing that morning as she apathetically cooked sausages. Her mind flickered to the previous night. She felt so terrible about what happened to Percy, especially when she felt like she might have been putting far too much strain on him. He was a _ten_ -year-old boy, taking care of his nine-year-old brothers.

Yesterday, she got him a book when she was out in the shops and, in that same day, he told her that he had thrown away all his books...which didn't sound like her son at all.

Percy had always loved books. She'd often find him in his room in the morning, rereading those six lone books that he had. When he was younger, he was so alone. She'd entrusted him with the task of taking care of the twins, to bond with them – so that they could bring life to his exceptionally pale, freckled body.

That morning, she found herself trudging upstairs with the new book in her hand.

She wanted to give it to him anyway. Perhaps, he'd have changed his mind about not wanting books anymore. Well, she certainly hoped. It was a good book too, she was told, something about ships, sailors and how the full-moon ate the sailors' ships as it rose.

She knocked on the door, calling her son, "Percy."

When there was no response, she jammed the door open. Usually, at this time in the morning, he would be sitting on his bed, wide-awake and writing drivel with his sugar quills in a rather haphazard fashion. He'd be muttering to himself about something (she didn't really know what per se) as he rubbed his temples.

"Percy?" she called out loudly, as she walked inside the room.

The bed was empty, stripped and made. There was no sign of him in his own room. She kept the small blue book close to her, as she searched the bathrooms, the other boys' rooms, Ginny's room, and went down to the garden outside where the sun was beaming brightly. She checked the house twice – then thrice – before she realised that there was no sign of little Percy anywhere. He had simply _vanished_!

A few minutes in, true panic started to settle into her bones. That was also when she realised there were _things_ missing from Percy's room.

Molly went back into the kitchen and saw that her husband was standing beside the counter, stirring in some sugar in his milky tea. He looked content with his life, as he hummed in merriment. "Molly, darling, you've got to apply a charm to prevent these eggs from burning. They were nearly about to burn—"

"Percy's not in his room," Molly cut Arthur off, urgency in her voice. "He's not _anywhere_."

She then added on, terrified, "I've looked and I've looked..."

Arthur chuckled, and pressed his hand against Molly's cheek. "I'll go look for him, Molly. Stop worrying yourself over nothing. Remember the last time that you thought he was gone and Charlie had taken him down to Diagon Alley for ice-cream?"

This had happened before, and she knew it. However, this time, there was a cold feeling in her chest. Something had happened and she knew it!

She could feel her blood solidify. She could feel the emptiness in the house, the curtness in the way that Percy's bed had been made that morning. She could see the vacant spaces in his little bookcase. She noticed that the bed was cold. It was not slept in. Her Percy had disappeared, just vanished as if he was a bunch of strings that couldn't hold themselves together. _Gone_.

He returned to her after ten minutes, looking just as deadpanned as she was. "Percy's not in the house."

He paused for a few moments, eyes on the ground. The war was over long ago. Why did she not have her son in her home, in her arms?

"Percy's not in the house!" he exclaimed.

Suddenly, she remembered... "The _clock_!"

She'd scurried over to it. Arthur trudging right behind her. Her heart had practically stopped. At the moment, Percy's hand of clock had been pointing at _Lost_.

Tears were cascading down her cheeks. "Arthur, my son...where's our baby?"

She felt his arms wrapped gingerly around her body, his head on top of hers.

"Listen," he began, voice soft but still stern. "Nobody could have taken him. There are things missing in his room. His bed is made. He probably ran off for some reason or another. Wherever he's gone, he can't be fair. We'll bring him back home. He's got distinct features, love – _our_ distinct features. He'll..."

Arthur paused for a few moments, hot breath on her neck. "We'll find him."

" _Ran away_?" somehow, the thought hadn't percolated through Molly's head. " _Ran away?!_ Why would he...?"

The answer was simple: she was a terrible mother, terrible enough that he felt like it was easier to be outside in the dark world, _without a wand_. She didn't give him enough. She should've told him that she loved him more. With every thought, her heart thudded with pain. _This was all her fault_.

"We'll find him," Arthur repeated in a soothing voice.

"Why?" she asked, changing the subject entirely. Her eyes were puffy and red. Of course, Arthur didn't answer. He didn't answer because he didn't want to tell her the truth; that she was a terrible mum.

Arthur cleared his throat, and then leaned down to press his lips against her cheek, "I've to go to work."

He got his briefcase, placing a hand on her shoulder, "We'll find him. I promise."

Within a few minutes, she'd set up breakfast for the rest of her children – eggs, bacon, sausages. She'd made coffee for Bill and Charlie. She watched her children try to stab sausage links with dimpled hands, and she watched them fighting over the last rashers. She watched Fred eat the yolk, and George eat the whites of the egg. She'd always told him not to do that. The healers said that George might end up malnourished; eating nothing but egg whites, candy and sweet buns.

Merlin, yesterday, Percy ate so much more than he would. She'd been overjoyed. Was he eating because he planned to leave? She remembered he lingered in the table longer, staring with soft eyes and no expression to his face. Could she have told him something to make him stay? Why did he linger at the table for so long? Was he looking for something? Did he find it?

The ten-year-old was out there all alone now. He must be hungry. Maybe tired. Where was he?

"Oh, Mum," Charlie's voice was soft. He could always tell when she was upset. "What's wrong?"

He wandered towards her and hugged her so tightly. She wanted to break down and cry into her son's arms.

"Percy's disappeared," Molly whispered. "Your father thinks he ran away...from home...from _me_."

Charlie seemed surprised. He looked down at his feet for a few moments, shuffling. "Mum, you say this all the time. Percy's probably somewhere you haven't looked yet. You know, the clock always—"she pulled his chin towards the direction of the clock.

He was silent for a few moments, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Bloody hell," he called out. "The little blighter's gone and actually _left_ us!"

Charlie scratched the back of his head. "Don't worry. Dad will find him. You know, us Weasley's aren't so easy to blend in the crowd. Our hair sticks out in the dead of the night, and everyone recognises the famous Weasley hand-me-downs! He'll be fine!"

"Percy's _gone_?" George looked up from his eggs, surprised. The twins gave each other a long, piercing look that Molly couldn't decipher.

"We didn't mean for this to happen," Fred began in a low voice.

George then, equally quietly, added "We're sorry."

"We took Bill and Charlie's wands, and we put Charlie's wand in Percy's room. We were just playing around," Fred's eyes were big and wide.

George continued the tale, "We tore his books, and he got upset. We thought he'd get over it."

"But he didn't," Fred seemed confused as to why. Silly boy. "He said that he hated us, and then he wanted back to his room and he tried to lock the door with his bookcase, but Charlie opened it."

Charlie sighed, rubbing his temple. "And then he got yelled at because of it."

"We're sorry," the nine-year-olds chimed in, sounding indisputably rueful.

Sometimes, Molly wondered how Charlie could maintain his cool as such. She wanted to forgive the twins the minute that they had apologised, and she had. She had such a soft heart. She loved all of her children, and yes, she did hold Percy in a dear place. He was so polite all of the time.

Yesterday was so odd for her. He had been _so convinced_ that the twins had been lying. Nobody believed him. Then he told her that he didn't like books anymore, just because he must've felt like nobody would believe the real story all along.

 _Oh darling… did you run away because of this? Did you leave because you felt like you wouldn't stand for it?_

"I'll talk to you both later," Charlie sighed deeply. "How many bloody times do I tell you not to-"

Messy-haired Ron and messier-haired Ginny walked into the kitchen and the room went silent. Molly did not want to mention it, but she knew she had to.

"Percy's not in his room. He's missing," was what she said, hoping they'd draw a conclusion for themselves on whether he'd been taken or whether he'd left of his own accord.

"It's their fault," Ron pointed towards the twins, as if it was clear as day. "They did something, didn't they?"

" _Is not_!" even though the twins had confessed to _her_ , they would never confess to Ron. He was so little, but even _he_ knew how strained Percy and the twins' relationship had been.

Ron shook his head. "Really? What about that time that you stole Bill's wand and charmed Percy's sugar quill so that his hair would turn blue when he sucked on it?"

"But he didn't get hurt," Fred interjected.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows in deep concentration. "What about the time that you let him drink from that nose-biting teacup you got from Zonko's—?"

"But he didn't get hurt," both Fred and George chimed again.

Ron seemed to be thinking hard, looking for a time where they did physically hurt Percy. "Oh! What about the time that you pushed him from his bed in the morning when he was asleep just because you were bored? He got hurt then!"

"Just barely!" the twins immediately chimed in.

 _"Boys!"_ Charlie called out, shooting them an icy glare. They settled down over the table. In minutes, they'd gone from thinking about what had happened to Percy to fighting over sausage links again.

Molly felt horrible. She didn't even know Fred and George did _that_ much to him, but little Ron seemed to be able to recall examples off that top of his head nearly instantly.

She could remember him telling Arthur that the twins had been acting up too much, and he'd told Percy that they were just playing. Oh, _Percy_ … She wanted to hold him in her arms, and tell him that she should've believed everything he'd ever said and that she was sorry. She wanted to give him his brand new book and make him feel better. That morning, she ate her breakfast and then watched her children in the living room.

She kept on staring at the clock. She kept on wondering...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

Auror Henry Wells found it surprising to see that someone had already gotten to the dark wizard Alec Lestrange, and had done most of the work for him. He was more surprised when he was greeted by a tuft of red hair and a splatter of freckles.

A _child_ had somehow managed to do what the Aurors have been trying to do for weeks now – capture the dangerous Alec Lestrange.

He'd returned to the Aurors' office after allowing his superiors to take the Alec Lestrange matter into his own hands. By the point they'd managed to find an antidote for the potion, Alec Lestrange was already blue-in-the-face and close to unconsciousness. His wand and his potions were nowhere to be found, and Henry Wells had suspected that the young redhead robbed him of those things.

That afternoon when he went to nip a bit of lunch, he couldn't help but notice things were odd today.

His colleague, Kendra Walker, had been off for a spot of tea with her new boyfriend in the lunch hour. The paper-pushers seemed to be drowning in so much paperwork that they were nowhere to be seen. Jacob Blackwell was not complaining about _The Quibbler_ just as he did every bloody lunch hour... and then that was when Henry Wells caught sight of Arthur Weasley. Usually, that man would be chatting all about the latest muggle gadget and how he believed it worked or he'd be expressing his joy over one of his sons' accomplishments. Oh, from what he knew; the new one was a girl named Ginevra.

"Cheer up, Arthur," Henry Wells announced, as he moved over to the man.

Arthur didn't seem to be 'cheering up'.

"I'm not in the mood today for chatter today, Henry," the redheaded man sighed, "I would rather just sit here and enjoy my lunch in peace."

"Enjoy your lunch in peace?" Henry repeated his colleague's words, noticing the condition of Arthur Weasley's plate, "But you've _barely_ eaten!"

Arthur had put his fork away, almost as if admitting defeat. This was very odd, as the ginger male was one of the happiest creatures that Henry Wells had ever met. He practically brightened up the lunch hours just by his beaming smiles, and ludicrous stories about muggle _toast-erz_.

"Oh, this ought to cheer you up – something happened this morning that you wouldn't believe!" Henry called out ardently.

That morning, he rose up with nearly no motivation, but now, was buzzing with excitement. After all, this morning's happening was something that he had never seen before, but had convinced him of things that were far beyond his understanding. He still did not believe what his eyes had witnessed.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Henry, not today. I've gotten quite a bit on my plate. One of my sons, Percy, he's just _disappeared_ last night. A boy of no more than ten without an adequate sum of money, no shelter or direction. My wife's just about barely keeping herself together, and I'm in a bit of a mess myself."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Arthur, I..." he paused.

Henry shook his head before he _realised_ —he felt himself grow with stupidity. How could he not see this before? That boy that attacked Lestrange in an area _in very close proximity_ to the Weasley household – a young, freckled redhead.

"Arthur, after lunch," Henry declared, still digesting his own conclusion, "May I see a picture of Percival?"

"Yes, I suppose," Arthur said, raising an eyebrow towards his friend. "It might be good if you see him during your rounds around England. Perhaps, you'd catch sight of him."

And so, after lunch, Henry Wells was offered a photo of Percival Ignatius Weasley.

There _that_ boy was, in the picture, with a rather reserved and quiet smile. That was the same boy that was out on the fields today, apprehensive and nervy as he ran away from Auror. This explained _everything_. This explained why a child that should be basking in the outmost glory decided to disappear as if he'd committed Lestrange's crimes. Henry's heart was thumping in his chest. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. _This_...

"Arthur, I-I...I..."

"Speak up, Henry," Arthur announced smoothly. "Don't be so daft."

Henry shook his head. "You're aware that the Aurors have been scratching every surface in _bloody England_ to try and find Alec Lestrange after his escape from Azkaban?" a nod from Arthur allowed Henry to carry on telling the story, "Well, this morning, we were able to track down Lestrange to the woods just a few miles away from the Lovegoods' household. He was already tied very well. There was a girl, of course, as you know what Alec Lestrange does to them. Penelope Clearwater... Ayden's daughter."

Arthur slowly nodded his head. "Yes, I'm aware but what does have to do with—?"

Henry cut Arthur off, "I saw your son at the fields this morning."

"Percy? You saw _Percy_?" Arthur looked elated for a few moments, before horror dawned on his face that he had probably encountered the known dark wizard Alec Lestrange. "Is he alright? Has he been harmed?"

Henry shook his head. "He'd run off right before I could even catch a good look at him. But it's him."

Arthur shook his head, "I'll have someone sent for him."

"I'll send one of the Aurors to look for him," Henry insisted before adding on, "Arthur, if I'm not mistaken, your ten-year-old untrained son managed to do more work in a few minutes than the Aurors have been able to do for months on end. He's made a _joke_ out of the task force!"

Arthur suddenly realised what Henry was implying. "Henry, Percy couldn't have! He's a ten year old child for Merlin's sake. A _defenceless_ ten-year-old child. How could he disarm Alec Lestrange if he has no wand?"

The redhead then added on, "Send someone to go check this for me. I'll join you when my shift is done. I must find my child. I'm not going home tonight without him. My wife would be absolutely devastated, you see, and the longer he is out there, the more the chances of him are of being harmed!"

Henry sighed in exasperation. "You mustn't doubt your own child's abilities."

"Henry, as much as I enjoy your company, I know what my children are capable of," Arthur stated in a rather stern and concise manner. He sounded oddly defensive and colder than usual, "And my ten-year-old child couldn't have harmed a hair on Alec Lestrange's head."

"Lestrange's things have gone," Henry pointed out as he remembered. "Percival must've taken them."

Arthur looked frustrated, "You think my child managed to harm Lestrange _and_ steal from him?"

"Yes," Henry stated. "I think that's exactly what has happened."

"Don't be daft," Arthur repeated that statement once more before expressing his thoughts, "I trust that all my children are special in their own ways. Percy's rather eccentric and intelligent, but that doesn't mean he's able to harm Alec Lestrange. You've never met the boy. A few years back, he wouldn't sleep in his own bed, terrified of something slipping in his bed. Do you think that boy could've harmed anything?"

"Arthur, we were fighting a war!" Henry interjected. "You mustn't underestimate Percival's abilities."

"I am not," Arthur announced. "I'm being sensible. Why are you so insistent on this?"

Henry then added on, "I've changed since the war – since I found out that an infant had defeated the Dark Lord... your son might not be the Boy Who Lived, but that does not mean he isn't capable of things beyond our understanding or control."

Arthur didn't say anything to that for a while. "I'll search for him tonight. You're welcome to help."

Henry nodded his head before leaving Arthur's office.

Two theories were speculating themselves in Henry's mind. Either Arthur was right about Percy Weasley possibly having been caught in a very strange situation where it might have appeared he had attacked a very dangerous wizard with no training at all or Henry was right about Arthur doubting his child's abilities.

Whatever the case, he _will_ get his answers at some point or another. He just knew he will.

PENELOPE found herself gently waking up the redhead from what seemed to be in deep slumber.

She herself had taken a few hours' nap, but Percy had been asleep for the odd ten or so hours and didn't seem to be stirring. She gingerly tapped against his body to wake him up. In a few hours, the sun would set and she wouldn't feel safe on her own in the dark, damp woods.

Percy's cheeks were a rosier colour than before. She had nearly forgotten how she found out his name. They'd been running when the Auror Henry Wells had called out her name – _Penelope Clearwater_ , and that was when she had asked him what his name was just in case they'd diverged paths.

When Percy had been stretching himself from his long sleep, his stomach grumbled. A red hue found its way to his freckled cheeks, almost as if there was a shame in his hunger.

Percy picked up his bag for inspection. He pulled out a long tube of gingersnaps, and offered one to her.

Penelope sat and ate gingersnaps with Percy. She ashamedly ate most of it despite the fact that he obviously was fairly hungry. His stomach was making noises after all. She found herself laughing when a small but dim-witted thought came to her mind.

Percy raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"

She just shook her head before stating, "You're a ginger... eating _ginger snaps_."

Percy's cheeks were coloured in again. It was then that Penelope had decided that she found Percy rather adorable with his flustered cheeks, thin lips and bright red hair.

"How old are you, Percy?" it was the first time that she used his name. It rolled off her tongue easily.

Percy stared down at the ground for a few seconds. "I'm to turn eleven in a few days."

"Eleven?" Penelope was rather surprised. He was incredibly tall for an eleven-year-old, but then again, she was incredibly chubby for her eleven years. "I'm also eleven."

Percy raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but he seemed to accept it after a few minutes of deliberation.

He stood up to walk down the trail again, and she followed him down to the path of _somewhere_.

Penelope had been thinking far too much about what happened within the last day. This boy had saved her life, and he was no older than she. Percy looked rather determined and had the brooding look of a parent. He was incredibly mature for his age. Many a times she had been told that boys matured slower than girls, but that didn't seem true for him. He seemed intellectual enough to be able to have a few spells memorised that when the chance was present, he was able to save her life.

"Where are we going?" Penelope had asked this question before, and Percy had refused to answer it.

He still hadn't answered it.

They went down the same path that he wanted them to follow.

"Where are we going?" Penelope found herself repeating the question a few times as they passed through several streams, tried not to irritate a hive full of glumbumbles, run into anymore Whomping Willows or encourage any doxies to start wrecking havoc. She walked with him until her feet was absolutely smashed. She stared at the trees as they walked. They seemed to get shorter and thicker on their route. She found herself tired of dirt, mud and leaves. She would like to be in her father's arms at the moment.

Ayden Clearwater had to be wondering about where his daughter was at.

When they rested, he'd offered her more food. This time, she'd been given a sandwich wrapped in foil.

Penelope had noticed the lack of colour in his cheeks. He'd barely eaten today, and yet, he wouldn't eat anymore despite his stomach making sounds. He kept on feeding _her_ for some reason she didn't understand.

"Shouldn't you—" Penelope was going to tell him to eat something, but she'd been cut off by him.

Percy walked close to a tree. "Can you climb?"

She closed her mouth, and simply nodded.

They climbed up a large tree and sat across the thick branches. The tree they'd climbed had been sturdy. It was tall enough that getting up felt like a hassle. Penelope felt filthy and she didn't see a stream miles from now. She was exceedingly thirsty as well, but she tried to keep that thought to herself.

"Why won't you tell me where we're going?" Penelope's patience had been wearing thin.

Percy looked down at his feet. "I'm not obliged to tell you anything."

"Why are you so difficult?" Penelope knew that this wasn't fair. Percy had done so much for her. He'd fed her and seemed to keep her safe, but the curiosity was getting too much for her. She didn't like uncertainty.

He looked away from her. "Why do you insist on following me?"

"Because I have this small thought that perhaps, my father is going to find us," Penelope had noticed how uncomfortable Percy was at the mention of her father, "Why do you hate Aurors so much?"

"I never said I did," Percy plainly stated.

Penelope allowed herself to look at the sky. It was dark, but there were small twinkles from the scattered stars. "Are you going to tell me where you're taking us tomorrow?"

"No," Percy stated dryly.

Penelope also noticed that he was quiet and distant. She was not sure if this was because he did not enjoy her company or because was thinking too much about something else. "I—"

"Go to bed, Penny," his statement was an order. His voice was full of authority.

Penelope found herself in her thoughts again, trying to understand the reserved redhead that didn't eat much and didn't seem to want to talk either. What was he thinking about that was taking up so much of his thoughts? Did he not like her?

"I think you're too used to giving orders to people younger than you..." Penelope paused, "Do you have any younger siblings?"

Percy then stated in an unhappy and cold manner, "I don't have a family."

Penelope wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but she felt like it was a sore spot. She could hear the sadness in his voice, the emptiness. He was very sad for an eleven-year-old boy that was supposed to be full of hope, love and all those colourful things. Did his family not take care of him enough?

She fell asleep on that big tree branch. Penelope was surrounded by the smell of wet leaves and grimy shoes.

WAKING Penelope from a fitful slumber was shouting.

It was rather alarming at first before she made out the sounds of a man that had been calling " _Percy_!" in a rather loud and austere manner.

Penelope's eyes encircled around the area. Three redheads that had Percy's light eyes and freckled hair seemed to be scouting the area with expression of concern, horror and exhaustion. She'd glanced back to Percy, whom was rather awake and silent. He did not react to the man calling his name.

" _Percy_!" one of the redheads bellowed out urgently. " _Percy_!"

Was this...was this his family? It surely seemed like it. Were his family looking for where Percy had disappeared off to? Then why was he sitting there, silently? Offering her a cold look that told her that he wanted her to stay as silent as possible to reduce their risk of being found?

Penelope wanted to see her father and be taken home. Perhaps, this could be her chance.

 _"PERCY!"_ what looked like Percy's brother chimed out in frustration. _"Where are you?!"_

Their cries were louder now that they were closer. Penelope was able to see that one of the men, she'd assumed was a father, was portly actually. The other two boys were built with sturdy and strong frames. One of them had an earring and long hair. Penelope thought he looked ridiculous.

"I've gone and looked east," the frustrated long-haired redhead expressed before adding on, "Charlie went west. Henry's gone south. You've taken up north I suppose – but we haven't actually found him yet. I'm not sure how far deeper he's gone off or if we've missed him already."

The portly man shook his head. "Bill, do you know what your mum will do if we go home without him?"

The long-haired redhead – _Bill_ – shuddered and nodded his head. "I know. I know...Charlie and I are thinking of setting up camp here and trying to look for him come morn. It'll calm Mum down to know that we aren't coming back home without him."

Bill seemed annoyed at the moment. "I just don't bloody understand why a bloody ten-year-old would _run away_ from his house! When I find him, I'm going to make him wish he'd never been—"

"William!" the portly man exclaimed. "That's enough now. You've woken all of Ottery St Catchpole."

Penelope watched Percy flinch, but his eyes seemed dark and still.

A stream of thoughts attacked her in that instant. He ran away from the Aurors because he was a runaway. He did not tell her about their path probably because he didn't know a thing about their path. He was cold and distant because he'd probably been thinking far too much about his own family. Somehow, this realisation made Penelope want to scream out and let Percy be dragged back home, yet she couldn't betray his trust after he'd saved her life. Instead, she watched the redheads go back to their search. They seemed like nice people. They were caring enough to set up camp to look for Percy. They did not seem to be cold or daunting. To her, it appeared as if Percy had run away from a sweet family, minus the long-haired one – _Bill's_ – threat, which Penelope was sure was an empty one from how Percy's face had contorted.

The redheads seemed to disappear for now. Perhaps, to return back home to equip themselves for the camp.

Penelope attempted to digest what happened in the past few minutes, not sure of what to say that wouldn't either offend Percy, or be fruitless to her. "They seem like nice people," was the first statement she made.

"They are," Percy confirmed in a matter-of-fact voice.

Penelope then chose to tread on that subject again with another statement, "They seem invested in finding you and taking you back home."

"They are," Percy repeated in that same matter-of-fact tone.

"Do you miss them?" was the question that left her lips before she'd had a chance to process that she was going to say it. Her cheeks were coloured into a soft hue.

Percy slowly nodded his head. "Yes."

Penelope allowed herself to taste that thought before she inquired, "Are you going to go back to your home?"

There seemed to be a pause that lasted an eternity before she heard Percy say, "No."

"Why?" Penelope peered, knowing that her curiosity might kill an Animagus.

Percy didn't say anything, and not knowing was driving Penelope bonkers. Somehow, one plus one did not equal two. He missed his family. He admitted that they cared about him, so why didn't he go back home? They could get hurt out here with the Whomping Willows, the beasts, the unanticipated weather changes...

 _"WHY?!"_ Penelope repeated ferociously.

Percy simply curled close to the tree. In reality, Percy was not obliged to answer her questions, and she was not obliged to follow him down on his path... yet here they were.

"Goodnight, Penny," he stated as she turned to try and slip back into slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

before i divulge into this chapter, i would like to thank anyone that has taken their precious time and energy to leave their feedback / comments / suggestions. i could be having a unmotivated, coffee-less morning, only to check my e-mail and see that a few have left me some delightful feedback (i do, in fact, read it and take it into account). i would also like to apologise for advance for some of the spelling or grammar mistakes that i've been making, as it seems that the more i proofread it, the more mistakes i end up with. also to add on, this fanfiction will later on deal with darker themes, including: **isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**. in contrast, the original draft of this fanfic had implications of sexual abuse and heavy suicidal ideology after passing about 8 or so chapters... it also ended in a way that made _Oedipus Rex_ look like a children's book (obviously i've watched far too much _Game of Thrones_ at this point.) hence the complete and utter re-write because re-reading said fanfiction left me feeling like i must've taken a mind-altering substance when i've first written it. i do not think that this fanfiction will be veering off in a similar manner, considering that it is T-rated for one. also to note, so far - out of the fifteen additional chapters i've written (other than this one), **Percy and Penelope do not form a romantic relationship and i do not plan that they do.** unfortunately, i am not sure if this fanfic needs a pairing, or what pairing would be suited best for it. at any point, in any chapter, feel free to drop any suggestions if you think you would like to see a particular pairing and i'll take it into account. i do not mind most, if any, Percy-based pairings as long as i can write the pairing without making Percy's partner highly out of character.

in another note, i enjoy the comments on Molly and Arthur's parenting skills or even the comments about Percy and the twins. i do not know how _out of character_ you might find it or how _in character_ you might find it the rest of the fanfic. unfortunately, as the fanfiction goes along, it definitely gets worse. that's why the  abuse warning is _partially_ for. it's only a sporadic scene (thus far), but i'm very self-aware of it because from what i've read, it's difficult for many people to write a scene with either Arthur or Molly with one of them being intentionally abusive whilst trying to stay in canon. the (few) ones i've read ends up being so out of canon but hopefully, i don't diverge them too much out of what most people think Molly and Arthur are capable of. i know it's shameless exploitation of their characters. i honestly think they do have well intentions, but it usually does not come across well (at least for this particular fanfic). so, i install a warning for general _ridiculousness_ when it comes to them.

to **Crazy 109** , "I'm rather nervous that the illness in the story summary might be lycanthropy." it's not. if it helps, whenever i normally do an illness in a story, it's usually just a muggle illness that has a 'wizarding' twist to it.

* * *

Chapter Four

* * *

By the time that they'd woken up in the morning, Penelope noted that Percy's brothers had set up camp. It was a small camp, and the two brothers looked filthy and completely exhausted from what she could see. She couldn't help but feel slightly angry at Percy for not even considering returning to his family seeing the drawn-out look on the long-haired boy's – Bill's – face. This anger amplified when she saw Charlie scratch a patch of skin that was obviously bitten by something.

"You really should go home," Penelope had said in a soft whisper.

Percy raised an eyebrow before shaking his head, "No."

Penelope was getting agitated with Percy. "Look at how _worried_ they are about you! You can't just sit here and pretend like they don't care about you because they do."

"I'm not sitting here and listening to this," Percy huffed, grabbing his bag. Wait, he was going to _leave her_ over _this_ itty bitty argument? For Merlin's sake!

Penelope rolled her eyes. "You're being so _childish_!"

Percy gave her a hard look. "I am not."

"You are the most idiotic, self-absorbed and careless wizard I have had the displeasure of ever meeting," Penelope huffed towards his direction, not even caring if Bill and Charlie had heard or seen them. She honestly hoped that they would, "How _dare_ you leave your family!"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Simple… I got up from my bed and slid out the door," he said coldly.

"Go back home, Percival," Penelope warned.

"Or _what_?" he chimed. "Will you report me to the Ministry for having an opinion that clashes with the rest of my family?"

Penelope rolled her eyes. "You're so overdramatic."

"That isn't the first time I've heard it, but I disagree," Percy huffed in a dull tone.

She groaned in annoyance. "Why won't you just go back home? Would you rather frolic about in the woods where we could get seriously harmed just because you're touchy about who've stolen your biscuit?"

"I am not _touchy_ ," Percy icily snapped, ears red and cheeks hot. "And I've not left my family because someone's stolen a bloody biscuit from me!"

Penelope just raised an eyebrow at this. "Where do you think that stupid trail you're following will take you? You're eleven years old, Percy – in fact, you're not even eleven yet! What are you going to do out in the woods with a wand you could barely use?"

Percy rolled his eyes and then stated, "Funny how the wand I could _barely use_ is the reason Alec Lestrange didn't turn _you_ into papier-mâché… though I suppose I shouldn't let such things get to me so I wouldn't seem – Merlin forbid – touchy or overdramatic now!"

Penelope's cheeks had darkened into a red hue.

"Goodbye, Penelope," Percy announced. "Remember – you're still in debt to me, and you are not allowed to disclose my whereabouts."

He really was leaving her! The uncouth little…

"As if I would!" she exclaimed. Penelope scoffed to herself before she added on, "Go on! Go down your little trail that leads to nowhere."

He didn't seem fazed by the demeaning tone that she used. "Very well."

For the first few seconds, Percy did not leave he, and then he decided to climb down, eyes on hers. Penelope feared for his life out there in the woods all by himself. He pulled out his hand all of a sudden. She pulled out hers, unsure of what he wanted.

When he shook her hand, she felt herself grow thick with shame for a few seconds as he descended down to follow the path that he made for himself a while ago.

Penelope sighed, aggravated with the whole situation… his elder brothers were absolute fools if Percy was just standing there practically right in front of them and they didn't even notice in their semi-addled, barely coherent " _Charlie, what did we pack for breakfast?"_ state.

Still, the nerve of him! Perhaps her mum was right about men taking an incredibly long time to mature!

She did find it a bit overdramatic that he left her after their first fight. Penelope attempted to look at the bright side. All she had to do was present herself to the elder Weasley's – they'd take her back home! She was legitimately only minutes away from returning to the safety of her pretty, purple bedroom with all her posters of the Weird Sisters, whereas Percy would probably be attacked and killed by a Whomping Willow somewhere along his _beloved trail_! Merlin help the man that tried to swerve him back to his loving family!

She watched them cook sausages. They ate whilst having a bit of a morning chat. The sky was rather clear, and in any other day, she'd be amazed at how blue it was.

"These apple sausages are nice," Charlie stated. "We should tell Mum to bring them more often."

Bill nodded his head, offering a beaming smile as he ate one of the bigger sausages. "They are good, aren't they? We still should've bought some eggs on our way from the chickens, though Dad did say something about the chickens making less and less eggs nowadays."

"It's because you've been fondling the big one again," Charlie joked, eyes light.

Bill glared coldly at him. "I was _not_."

Charlie snorted. "When do you think we should be setting down to look for Percy? Should we stay together or split up? The trails dry up quickly here and there are no footprints anywhere. The place is pretty scolded."

"Best to split," Bill announced before adding on, "Bettering the chances of finding Percy before he gets into trouble with another dark wizard."

Bill's voice was jovial, and _comical_? Penelope found this odd and rather discomforting. What was funny about Percy fighting off Alec Lestrange? It wasn't funny at all.

Charlie nodded his head, laughing before shaking his own head. "What do you think happened to Penelope Clearwater? I've heard that she'd just run off when the Auror came about."

"I'm not sure what happened to her, last night, Ayden Clearwater had the woods torn to the ground, looking for her. The bloody lunatic sent three search parties yesterday, scouting the area that Alec Lestrange's body was found!" Bill said, sounding alarmed.

Penelope allowed herself to feel a bit of comfort, hearing that.

Bill's face suddenly fell. "Do you think Percy was actually there?"

Penelope was furrowing her eyebrow. Of course Percy was there! He was the one that had saved her. Why were they acting like it was a _big old joke_? What Percy had done to save her life?

"Merlin, Perce take on a _dark wizard_?" Charlie shook his head. "I love him with all my heart, but even if Dumbledore himself came to me and told me that it was possible, I wouldn't believe it."

Bill nodded his head. "I remember a while ago when Dad sent me an owl telling me that he didn't know how to stop Percy from getting in his bed late at night when he was frightened. Merlin, a few days ago, we thought that Percy might be sorted into another House. Ravenclaw probably. I think I speak for us all when I say that we've tried everything possible to get Percy out of his room, away from his bloody books. No ten-year-old should be reading _that_ much. Nothing could probably be that interesting."

Penelope didn't know how to feel around this. Why wouldn't they believe that Percy had saved her? Why did they doubt his _bravery_?

Bill laughed, even though Penelope didn't find the situation funny at all. "I can't believe he tried to run away. Percy! He's never done anything that Mum's disapproved of before! I wonder why he would even try. I've never laid a hand on him. Well, I suppose that night before he left, he did make a fuss about the whole thing with the twins. He'd torn his books too Mum said. Merlin, maybe our little brother went mad. Whatever the reason is, Mum's going to talk his bloody ear off when we take him home."

Penelope wanted to scoff. She wondered why he'd torn his books though. She did know that he was rather overdramatic but…

Charlie suddenly stared back at Bill with a genuinely frightened expression. "What if we _don't_ find him?"

Bill raised an eyebrow. "How far can he get along without a wand?"

"I don't know, Bill. Our family's beat the odds several times," Charlie commented. "Just last week, Ron accidentally Flooed himself to a funeral!"

Bill just shot Charlie a look. "We'll find him. We have to. Else mum will have our heads."

Charlie shuddered at the thought. "You're right… pass the salt?"

"Of course."

Penelope found herself hesitant to approach Percy's brothers. She didn't know them very well, and they hadn't done much scouting yet considering they were busy having breakfast. The apple sausages smelled really nice. She remembered how they called Percy's name last night and the desperation in what she presumed was Percy's father's face. It made her feel angry at Percy, for deciding to risk both of their lives and running to dark places with a complete disregard to the fact that his brothers were kind enough to set up camp to look for him. She bet Percy's mum was nice too. She seemed to be very worried about him. Frankly, Percy worried for Percy too. He might've gotten hurt and she didn't want anything to happen to him when he, in fact, saved her life.

Penelope suddenly found herself being quite sad that she and Percy had to hit it off in that way.

She climbed down from the tree, a rage suddenly taking her with every step down. Here they were, talking uncertainly about Percy whilst he slipped away from under their noses! If they just stopped and _looked_ … she walked down to their campsite, feeling fickle. Percy had literally slid out right under their noses _just now_! That was preposterous. At the same time, Percy was no angel either. She was angry at Bill and Charlie but also Percy. Mum was right all along. All boys were thicker than a copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters._

The brothers looked flabbergasted as Penelope Clearwater approached them.

Before they could say anything, it just suddenly downed on Penelope how bad this all was. She'd been taken by Alec Lestrange. He might've genuinely harmed her. No, _he would've killed her_ just like he would those other girls. The boy that saved her life had run off because of a stupid fight that suddenly didn't mean anything at all. She had probably eaten a good amount of the food that he'd been carrying for himself. Percy was probably going to become ill and get possibly killed with all those dangerous creatures out there. The stories of which her father used to tell her when she was young so that she would be cautious out there in the woods on her own – Whomping Willows, pixies, merpeople, doxies…?!

Penelope's eyes suddenly became filled with tears.

"Penelope?" Bill stood up immediately upon seeing her. "You—"

In that moment, all she could think about was Percy. She ran off down the path that he'd been walking in for what felt like ever. Penelope ran as quickly as she could but she was still probably slow. She had no wand, and they were two big, probably strong boys that could catch up on her quickly. She saw a small poke of red hair from close to a stream, which was charmed to stay clean. Percy was drinking from it. His hair looked mussy and tousled in the soft lighting and his hands muddy. She found herself fill with elation. She looked back and was able to see the two redheads come after her. When she'd run to Percy, she smiled as she tackled him to the ground.

Penelope laughed, hugging him tightly. She'd missed him in the while that they'd been apart!

"Let go of me!" Percy obviously wasn't used to the affection. "If you don't let go, I _will_ stun you."

Penelope laughed again, harder this time. In tandem with her laughter, Percy seemed to have noticed that Charlie and Bill were following them and turned to run off again. Penelope followed him closely after. This time, Percy was the one with the questions.

"What is the meaning of this?" Percy announced in a rather high voice.

He glanced and was able to see that Bill and Charlie were quite a bit away, but they were tracking them down. Suddenly, he ran quicker. Due to his low body weight, Percy was a lot quicker than she was. Then again, he had a lot more incentive to run than she did.

Penelope gasped when she tripped over a branch.

Suddenly, she heard _its_ voice. She looked up to see a big manticore standing there with blood tricking down its face, and a bone at the edge of his mouth. She was shaking from fear, what with the tears that were trickling down her face rather adamantly. This creature was smirking at her, his eyes transfixed at her body as if she was nothing but a plate of profiteroles. Immediately, she was picked up by Percy.

They ran with each other. A part of her wished that Percy would pull out the wand, but she suddenly remembered that manticores were rarely ever subdued by magic and the handful of spells that Percy knew definitely wouldn't have been enough.

They continued to run until they got to a dead end.

Weren't manticores Greek creatures? What was one doing here in England? It was then that she remembered that Alec Lestrange had a habit of subduing manticores to pets. Was this his _companion_? The thought made Penelope shudder as she watched a few hexes bounced off the manticore's body. Penelope was able to see both Charlie and Bill standing there, holding out their wands and looking highly startled. Of course they were frightened – there was a dangerous and insane manticore ready to kill them all.

"Let them go!" Charlie exclaimed, throwing a hex that the manticore's body dodged. "They're _children_."

The manticore laughed. "That's why I should let them _go_?" he said snidely. "Oh yes, master! Isn't that what you like? Taking manticores and dragons and training them to be your pets? The things that Lestrange did to my brothers but you see… I can't be trained, you little rodent. I hope that one day; the forest makes you its pet and feeds on your _corpse_!" The manticore roared, the sound of a lion rippling through the man's mouth. He seemed inhuman, vicious. The blood trickling told her that he must've eaten recently, which Penelope concluded was probably the only reason that they weren't manticore feed by now!

" _You_!" the manticore exclaimed, staring at Percy. "The hero that saved the damsel in distress, aren't you? From my 'master'? I can smell it. I know. Oh, I've been waiting for him to come back to face my wrath…"

"Wait, he actually—"Charlie was cut off by the manticore's swift tail moving, encasing itself around Penelope's body. He snatched her up into the air, careful that her body was not close to the end of his tail.

"Save your little friend," the manticore demanded from Percy.

Percy's eyes were staring over at the creature before him. Penelope's body was stiff with fear. Its body was large and gruesome. It was great in its size and length.

Percy suddenly asked, "It _is_ insulting, isn't it?"

"Percy, what are you doing?" Bill suddenly asked, voice full of fright whilst Percy's was calm.

What was Percy doing? Her heart was beating rather quickly. He was going to get them both killed! She could imagine the manticore throwing Penelope down and her body would snap like a twig.

Percy moved towards the end, staring over at a small bush. "Treated like a pet. I bet you're more than a few tricks, aren't you? Your cousin, the sphinx – they enjoy riddles. Do you have any for me?"

The manticore laughed, belling out enough that Penelope found herself sliding from the tail a little bit. Her body was practically paralysed from fear. She was inches away from the stinger that might end her life in seconds.

"I enjoy riddles; you insipid weasel," the manticore replied, "but do not demote me to my stupid cousins. They think that they're very good with their riddles, but they're all fools. The answers are far too obvious, and I've heard them all."

" _Percy_!" the elder brothers exclaimed. "What are you—?"

"Oh yes, you can answer them very well, can't you?" Percy suddenly inquired. "I'll give you a proposition – if you give me a riddle and I can't answer it, then you have to leave us be. Show me that you can come up with a riddle better than the sphinx."

Penelope glanced back at Bill and Charlie, whom seemed to be shocked that Percy had maintained a conversation with the creature for thus far.

Percy then said, "Do you accept my proposition?"

The manticore seemed to dwell on it in seconds before accepting and adding on, "If you answer my riddles, boy, then I will allow you to subdue me to nothing more than a pet… I must warn you, little Weasley boy. Time is running out. If you don't answer your riddle, I won't just harm your precious princess. I'll kill you and your brothers too for wasting my time."

Percy's face was still for a few seconds.

"Percy, _stop it_ ," Bill obviously didn't believe the muddle that Percy was getting them into. "Don't you dare!"

"You'll get us all killed," a distressed Charlie insisted.

Honestly, Penelope doubted it too. She was frightened of what this could mean for them. All she wanted to be was in her house, in her little purple room. She wanted to hear her cat purr again and hear her mum's voice again. She wanted to see her father come home from a long day of work, slumped and defeated as he asked their mum if she'd been taking her potions like the healer told her too. She remembered the days where her mum did. Those were such beautiful days…

Penelope didn't want to die.

The manticore then spoke, "I could be used as a name. Sometimes, I have roots, and sometimes I am used to describe the colour of roots. What am I?"

Percy seemed to think about this. His silence was an awful sign to Penelope.

Immediately, the manticore seemed to laugh. "Do you want a clue?"

Percy just stared vacantly at the creature before he shook his head. He looked like he was in defeat.

 _"PERCY!"_ Bill looked angry. Penelope believed that it was validated considering that they were probably all going to die because of Percy's conceit, _"… I'll bloody make you regret this well before this beast attacks either of us!"_

Charlie looked too stunned to speak. He had stopped scratching the itchy-looking patch on his arm.

 _"WHY'D YOU RUN AWAY?! UPSET MUM LIKE THAT!"_ Bill exclaimed, looking startled. Penelope honestly knew how frightened he was, but it was idiotic to be yelling at Percy when he was trying to think.

"Ginger," Percy said in a soft voice to the beast.

The manticore bellowed out a laugh.

It took Penelope herself a few moments to realise the answer was, in fact, _ginger_ – it could be a name. It could come in ginger roots, or hair roots. It was a poorly constructed riddle. That was the point of it. A riddle so simple that the manticore somehow wanted Percy to solve it? Or so it seemed.

The manticore kept on laughing. His cacophonous laughs were so loud and disruptive that they'd probably spanned across the whole of the woods. His voice rang into her ears, and she watched an assembly of horklumps beside a tree die, and an army of doxies suddenly appearing from the ground, running away from the source of the sound. Glumbumbles buzzed away. Some twitching as they left. _Perhaps_ , Penelope realised. _The creature is mad, having have been in Alec Lestrange's captive for so long…_

"Goodbye, Penelope," Percy ordered sternly before he disappeared down a new trail.

"Goodbye, Percy," Penelope said to herself, as she along with a silent, aghast Bill and Charlie witnessed an event that they would never see again: a mad manticore laughing itself to death.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

Bill was in absolute shock. His numb mind was trying to process what had occurred.

They had found Percy alright – or rather, Penelope found Percy, and an inane manticore found Penelope.

It was the first time in his life he'd seen one of those things. He pulled out his wand instinctively, even though he had heard all those tales about how manticores couldn't be subdued by magic. However, then Percy _talked_ to _it_. His not-even-eleven-years-old-yet brother seemed to manage to converse with Alec Lestrange's great beast and then he ran off in a quick haste. Hagrid would definitely be proud.

He couldn't process anything for the first few minutes.

"Stay here with Penelope," Bill suddenly told Charlie in a definitive voice. "I'll go after Percy."

"But Bill, what if he—?" Charlie was cut off from Bill's voice.

He had to leave now, before Percy got too far. "Charlie, I _won't_ repeat myself. Every minute we're wasting is another minute for him to get ahead!"

"Be careful, Bill," was Charlie's last statement.

After the manticore occurrence, Charlie was a little shook up. Bill was also fairly startled about the whole thing as well. At the same time, he had to make sure that Percy was taken home where he was _safe_. These woods were becoming more perilous the deeper they divulged into its very quintessence.

"I will," Bill promised.

He turned to look back at the big woods – and then he ran after Percy, whom now seemed like a red blur a few light years away.

"Percy!" Bill exclaimed as he ran. " _PERCIVAL_!"

This was his baby brother that always fell off in his broom when Bill was trying to teach him how to play Quidditch. This was the small little thing that disappeared under the table whenever he and Charlie played any form of entertainment that could harm them, even if it was all fun and games really. This was him, faster than Bill had ever seen him, as he swiftly diverged into the woods where his doom might dwell.

"Percy, stop!" Bill exclaimed afterwards, before he tried to frighten him, "When I get to you, you're going to be in _a lot of trouble_!"

Percy was normally very frightened by authority and demands as such. Normally, this would be enough to make him stop but he still kept on running.

"I'll tell Mum, and she'll never let you leave the house again! She might think that you're no better than the twins!" Bill continued on before adding, "You've ruined everything! You've made everyone upset. How dare you, Percival?"

 _Merlin, do you really want to scare Percy to death just so you can take him home?_ He thought to himself. This was Percy. He couldn't stand the idea of getting into trouble, much less the incessant threatening that he was receiving it.

Bill was getting incredibly winded. All the air seemed to be knocked out of his lungs.

 _A little faster!_ The logical part of him roared. _Do you want to go home to Mum without Percy in your arms? Do you want to tell her that you let a ten-year-old get away into the woods after you've just seen the first manticore in your life?_

"PERCY!" Bill exclaimed once more, his mind racking with conversations he had with his father about things his mum didn't know of. "Mum's so incredibly upset with you. She's going to give your room away if you don't come back, and give away all your things! We're going to have someone else to _replace_ you!"

"I don't care! I don't have anything!" Percy shouted from where he was, " _Leave me alone_!"

"Percy!" Bill yelled again. His mind couldn't come up with any other convincing argument. Fear of disappointing their parents was one of the biggest reasons for why Percy was so insistent on following the rules, and being quiet and detached from the rest of them most of the time. What else could he fear so—

That was when Percy slipped over a very large branch.

Bill's heart suddenly gave away to see the child lying down with blood heavily bursting from his leg. Bill had stopped running, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He heard Percy whimpering, as he stared over at his leg, which might possibly be _broken_ from the angle that Percy had twisted it in.

"It's done, it's over!" Bill rasped out, trying to breathe just a little better. "Stay there. I'll carry you home. It's fine. You're safe. We could heal that little cut up in no time."

 _Little cut?_ He thought to himself, looking at it more closely now. _There's nothing little about it!_ If their mum had caught a sight of it, she might just faint. Aside from exhaustion, anger and terror, Bill felt so accomplished and rather self-satisfied. He couldn't wait to carry that little bundle back home.

"No," Percy cried out, grasping his ankle with an indignant expression. "Go away!"

Bill stood up again, a pain manifesting in his side but he still kept on walking towards Percy.

Percy must've noticed Bill's pain too because he stood up . Percy cried out in absolute anguish. He was swaying to one side, but he still turned to dart again.

"PERCY!" Bill went to run after him again. This time, he was the quick one!

Percy suddenly stopped running, kneeling in pain.

Bill believed he finally had him! He ran quicker, with more enthusiasm coursing in his veins just as Percy's body became more and more visible then…

 _Snap!_

He was pushed down by a Whomping Willow. Bill felt his blood run cold.

Percy whimpered in pain, his eyes on the gash that seemed to have gotten worse when he tried to run from Bill. It was honestly very painful-looking. He had not seen Percy cry in years, but yet there they were – tear tracks running down Percy's face, as he tried to hiccup back his sobs.

"It's okay," Bill said, as he was being sloshed around repeatedly by the angry tree. "It's okay, Perce."

Percy tried to stand on it again, but ended up tripping instantly. He curled up again, hissing out in torment and sobbing to himself. His baby brother was in an absolute hellish pain.

"It's okay, Percy…" Bill announced once more, his voice softer.

He didn't want to see his ten-year-old brother crying, but dear Merlin, that gash seemed to be getting bigger and worse by the minute. He was bleeding out in an unwarranted manner.

 _"BILL!"_ Charlie's voice boomed from a distance that was too far away for Bill to feel comfortable.

The Whomping Willow was spinning Bill round and round until his brain felt like it was disintegrating.

Somehow, some _way_ … Percy found it in himself to stand up on his absolutely shattered leg and pick up his bag from where it had fallen on the ground. He shook for a few moments, unable to keep himself steady.

Then he ran as fast as his body would allow him to without breaking into pieces.

"Percy, stop!" Bill announced, smacked around by another branch of the Whomping Willow. "Percy, don't! Your leg is… Merlin, how could you even walk with— _PERCY, PLEASE_!"

Bill watched as a slew of ginger snaps and Honeydukes' chocolates had fallen from Percy's bag.

As Bill's stomach churned, the Whomping Willow tossed him aside as if he was nothing more than an empty sack of potatoes. He was flung high and flung far – in fact, he was tossed to Charlie, whom was running towards them. He crashed into his younger brother, feeling a hard-hitting pain develop in his chest and jaw.

Penelope flinched from where she stood. That crash must've looked as painful as it _felt_!

"You fat arse!" Charlie snapped over at Bill, as he tried to push him off quickly.

With his aching body, Bill separated himself from his younger brother. His head was pounding and every bone in his body was throbbing, yet the only thing that seemed to bother him was the thoughts that were rattling about in his mind… _Percy_!

"Charlie, he's _hurt_ ," Bill announced, as he dusted off the dirt that was on his shirt. "Percy's tripped over. He's sporting a wound big enough to possibly kill him if he doesn't have a healer attend to it soon."

His younger brother looked terrified. "Alright, alright…I…"

Charlie shut his eyes. He gave the command this time, "It's best if you stay with Penelope instead and take her home. I'll scout out to look for Percy. Send a healer in the outmost urgency when you're back in the Ministry. If he's as hurt as you say he is, he can't run that far."

Charlie then said, "We'll find him."

It was supposed to be a promise, wasn't it? Then why was Charlie's voice wavering?

Bill's heart was pounding. The only thing he could think of was that Percy was only out there all alone and by himself with a potentially fatal wound and no food or water. And he'd rather be out there all by himself potentially dying than have his family take him back to their home. What had they done so wrong that they were too blind to see? Percy was setting himself up for trouble. What had they done that was so bad that—

Charlie smoothly maneuvered himself down the path that Percy had gone to. Bill Weasley glanced away from his younger brother and looked down at Penelope, whom seemed shell-shocked. Tears were streaming down her face in a rather haphazard manner.

"I don't want him to be hurt," Penelope suddenly stated; strands of short golden hair in her view.

How could he comfort her on something he was highly worried about himself? The young girl sobbed and shook her head, "Can't we look for him too? He's so bloody stubborn. I'm scared he'll hurt himself."

Bill shook his head. "We have to go," he insisted, before cursing himself for not bringing any brooms or training to take his apparition test. If he had known it wasn't going to be easy, he would've tried harder.

"Come on," Bill tried to cheer the little girl up. "You're going to be going home. That's exciting, isn't it?"

Penelope kept on staring at the trail, as if Percy was going to pop out of there somehow. She looked sad. He picked her up (she was a lot heavier than Percy), and felt his heart sink deeper.

Dear Merlin, what was his mum going to do when she heard about _this_?

AYDEN Clearwater was now standing between that old coot Arthur Weasley and that young idiot Henry Wells, feeling himself grow with trepidation each moment that passed with no sign of his daughter.

Wells had come to him that morning with the preposterous idea that Percy Weasley was somehow involved in his daughter's disappearance, and Arthur's obsessive wife had come around a while back with them to the Ministry. It was all a slew of unproductive confusion, and false-sounding theories. Wells even assumed that this young Weasley boy that seemed to weigh as much as a _Cleansweep_ had somehow managed to save his daughter from a dark wizard that could turn him into liquefied mush in seconds! His precious daughter was a gifted witch that would surely be sorted into Ravenclaw as he was! She was to start her studies soon, and she'd been over the moon about the books that he'd gotten her a few weeks ago.

Molly Weasley must've been approaching him because he did not notice her standing in a close distance from him until she asked, "Would you like anything, Ayden?"

He looked at her. Molly Weasley was holding a tray of small teacups filled with coffee that she'd no doubt gotten from the lunch room. There were neat rows of Jammie dodgers, shortbread and lemon thins resting beside the little white Ministry teacups.

To be polite, Ayden picked up one of the coffee cups in an uninterested manner. She offered a weak smile.

"Have you slept, Molly?" Ayden asked in a very serious tone of voice.

"Not very well…" the ginger haired woman admitted before asking, "How's Claire handling everything?"

A few minutes had passed afterwards. Ayden drank the warm coffee that tasted more like a milky dessert with a hint of coffee flavouring. He found himself picking up a shortbread biscuit. As he ate, he noticed that Molly Weasley's eyes had not diverted from his face.

Ayden cleared his throat. "Yes, uh, well…" he was uncomfortable with how much attention Molly was paying to him. "Recently, I found her in Penelope's living room, talking to her bed as if she was actually there. She also has a habit of fixing her a plate every morning, and yelling at her for not touching her food…well, in short, Claire's not been handling a bloody thing."

Molly frowned and looked away from his face. "Isn't Claire a licensed psychiatric healer?"

"Used to be," Ayden announced before stating, "She's been odd ever since Penelope was born a few years back. She's now seeing Bonnie Waters for a host of psychiatric illnesses."

Despite knowing he'd regret it, he asked, "How are you getting on with Percy's disappearance?"

Molly looked away from Ayden and back at her feet. "Oh…well…with Percy, I…I…"

In what felt like seconds, her cheeks were streaked with hot tears, and she looked rather shook up. Her body quivered viciously. From the corner, Arthur Weasley moved towards his wife and draped a warm-looking red shawl over her shoulders, pulling her into his seemingly warm embrace.

"It's alright. It's alright," Arthur tried to cajole the woman – whom seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The ginger quickly looked over at Ayden with a softened expression. "I'm sorry about this."

"Nothing I haven't seen at home," Ayden stated indifferently, before taking a sip of the now cold 'coffee'.

Molly had left the room in a quick haste. Before Arthur could run after her, Ayden Clearwater had put his hand on the ginger male's shoulder and pulled him back.

"No," Ayden insisted in a rather dark tone of voice. "No, Arthur."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "But I—"

"It's best to leave her alone until she's calmed down some," Ayden advised.

A memory flashed of Claire screaming at him as he went to try and comfort her about their Penelope. The things that Claire had screamed to him had him up for days afterwards, wondering why he was in this marriage still. He wondered about the things he had done, the things he should've done and the things that _she_ should've done. He wondered about the little yellow-haired angel that could be dismembered into body parts, like a frail porcelain doll. Lestrange might demote her into nothing more than meat, bones and mush – and little stringy things that tied it all together.

Ayden Clearwater would _not_ allow himself to rest until his Penny was back into his arms.

Arthur nodded his head. "Alright. I trust you enough to believe you know best in these situations."

After the lot had knocked down enough coffees to keep the whole Ministry awake and had eaten enough biscuits to make a biscuit tin blush, Henry decided to probe the issue again.

"I swear on my life that I saw them," Henry announced, knowing the amount of judgment he'd receive for bringing up _that_ topic again. Ayden had to admire his persistence on attempting to make them believe absolute bollocks. "You believe me now, don't you, Arthur?"

Ayden was exasperated, "Henry, if you keep on talking about _that_ then I'd assume that you should see my wife's psychiatric healer."

A red hue came across the Auror's face when he realised that Ayden was serious.

"I hope you realise how ridiculous you sound like when you insist that the unarmed child might've been able to get the best of a Lestrange," Ayden's voice did not falter and his expression remain unchanged.

Henry looked over at the ginger male, and then asked, "Arthur, your child could've…"

"I remember this one time I caught him stealing a biscuit from the biscuit tin when he wasn't supposed to have any before dinner. He refused to come out of his room for days afterwards," Arthur announced sternly. "Do you think that that child could possibly harm _anything_ , even if it was in his own defence?"

"What are you talking about?" Molly Weasley was standing by the room, face botched from crying. She walked towards the table, smiling weakly. "I'm so sorry about that. I don't know what got over me…I hope that it didn't bother you that I was so uncouth in leaving. I needed a few minutes to myself."

"That's alright, love," Arthur insisted, standing up and placing a hand on his wife's shoulder.

Henry turned to Molly to ask, "Do _you_ think it's possible that your son could've perhaps assisted in bringing Alec Lestrange to custody?"

Molly chuckled. "Henry, you really should take a week off."

"I suppose it _is_ a ludicrous thought…" Henry Wells answered, cheeks colouring in.

It was a well known thought that if Molly Weasley had believed that something was incredibly absurd, it was because it was indeed absurd. This woman was a cavern of thoughts of hope and all things mystical and unlikely. She always had believed in the most impossible things.

" _Bill_?" Arthur Weasley's voice had pulled Ayden out of his trance.

The second-eldest – _or was it the eldest?_ – Weasley boys had been standing by the doorway. He looked haggard. His robes were torn, his cheeks flustered and he looked like he had been attacked. There was a nasty-looking cut to his upper lip, and he was sporting a rather colourful variation of bruises. Ayden hadn't even seen injuries like these since the war had ended, though he supposed that the Weasley's didn't fit into the category of predictable when it came to the standard, year-round injuries. Despite his appearance, he did not seem too bothered about his injuries.

"Bill!" Molly announced and ran over to him and hugged him. "Where's _Charlie_? What happened to _you_?"

"It's a rather long story…" Bill offered a sheepish smile. "I'm fine. Charlie's fine. It's… complicated."

Ayden rolled his eyes. These Weasley's always seemed to get themselves in the strangest spots of trouble. He turned to look at the now mostly empty tray, finding himself thinking of his daughter. His heart stopped when he noticed a tuft of _golden hair_ poke from behind Bill's robes. _Penelope_.

His daughter caught sight of him, and smiled merrily. She seemed to have very little hair, but the rest of her seemed well and intact from afar.

"Father!" she exclaimed, as she ran ardently towards her father.

He immediately got up from his seat and hugged her as tightly as possible. In his moment of absolute ecstasy, he let himself slip down the cover of the apathetic and stern Ayden Clearwater for he found himself laughing.

"Mr Clearwater, I'd like to say that she hasn't gotten injured," Bill decided to declare.

"Where's the rest of your hair?" Ayden asked, as he placed his hand on top of Penelope's hair. Her long, golden locks was something to be admired of – now, just gone. From afar, she looked like a boy.

Penelope simply said, "It's a long story."

Ayden chuckled, shaking his head. He looked up towards a rather shell-shocked Molly and a pleasantly surprised Arthur and asked, "There are potions for these sorts of things, yes? Hair growth?"

"No! I don't want any," Penelope said, shrinking to her place. "I'd rather stay like this than have anyone give me another one of those potions. Alec Lestrange made my hair come to life so that he could try and hurt me by _strangling_ me!"

She moved to showcase her neck, which made Ayden's heart stop. There was a circle of bruises of where the locks had been strangling his poor little Penelope. Ayden found himself ghosting his finger across the imprint, feeling an anger brew in him with every light trace of the bruising.

"Where's Percy?" Molly asked Bill, but it was loud enough to bounce off the room.

Ayden did not know what to expect, but in that same instant, Penelope's cheery smile disappeared. In seconds, sobs raked out from her body as she exclaimed, " _Bring Percy back! Bring him back_! _He's hurt_!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

Molly Weasley had been having an absolutely awful day. That morning, she found it so hard not to look into Percy's ( _empty_ ) room. She broke down at any mention of little Percy—and there were plenty of them today. That morning, when she'd been doing the laundry, she'd found his tiny robes. When she was polishing the clock, she'd found her eyes staring at where his hand was flickering between _Lost, Missing_ and now, _Mortal Peril_. When she'd been cleaning the twins' room, she'd found little torn bits of Percy's books. Speaking of the twins, they'd had been so silent these days. Ron and Ginny was causing more havoc than they were.

Molly couldn't help it. Percy was her child, and he wasn't at home. He was out in those dark woods all by himself. That was bad enough without Alec Lestrange's capture and the implications that Percy was in the scene made her uneasy and trepid about what might have happened to her child. Her _ten-year-old_ child.

As she was cleaning out the pantry and cupboards a few days ago to quell her nerves, she found herself relieved to find large tubes of gingersnaps, sandwiches, tarts and chocolate bars missing from the kitchen. Molly hoped to Merlin that Percy was the one that took them. She'd also kept a small hope that he had stolen some galleons and sickles from his brothers, or his father. Sometimes, she even wished that he was safe and happy – _anything_ but injured, harmed and starved.

 _Days_ had passed.

The more days he'd been missing, the more it seemed like he was something she imagined – not a person, but something less… something gone.

Molly was not able to stay at home today. She had gotten an old friend, Sally, to look after little Ron, Ginny and the twins when she was at the Ministry with Arthur for today. She did not want to sit at home when one of her children might be potentially seriously injured. She did not expect the crying, the breaking down and the thoughts of inadequacy to follow her into the Auror's office, haunting her in every waking moment just like they had been in the Burrow.

 _This was her ten-year-old child, and he wasn't safe at home, in her arms, in his bed…happy._

It was Percy's birthday tomorrow.

WHEN Bill came in that afternoon, Molly was startled at how terrible he looked. He looked like he had been attacked (or from her experience, playing an intense game of Quidditch). His robes were askew, his hair awry, his face littered with bruises and a large cut resting on his upper lip. Bill looked absolutely exhausted, and yet somehow, he didn't draw any attention to his injuries. Then Penelope emerged from behind his robes, the tuft of golden hair. She looked just like Claire used to at that age. Molly watched Ayden and Penelope reunite and couldn't help but feel cheated. Ayden got back his child, but where was her freckled little thing? Where was Percy with the stern look, expressions of irritation and thin lips? It had been _days_. What if he was harmed, cold, sad and starved? What if he was _dead_?

She turned to Bill and asked, "Where's Percy?" her voice bounced off and echoed off the walls.

That was Penelope suddenly looked up, her blue eyes suddenly brimming with tears. _No. No. No. No_. The worst possible circumstance had come to her mind. _He's dead._

"Bring Percy back! Bring him back! He's hurt!" Penelope exclaimed, tears running down her cheeks.

"Hurt?" Molly's voice was soft. Her heart had been racing as she leaned down to Penelope's eye-level.

Penelope slowly nodded her head, her voice soft as she repeated, "Percy's hurt."

"Hurt _how_?" Arthur suddenly asked – voice teething with concern, moving to Penelope himself. It was seldom that Molly saw him visible showing his care for Percy, so this action had actually calmed her down in ways that she could not explain to most people. Molly knew Arthur cared for all his children but he found it difficult to express with Percy considering how stand-offish the boy was.

Bill was the one to answer their inquiry. "When I was running after him to take him back home, Percy fell and hurt himself – a big old gash on his leg… then for some reason, he stood up and decided to try to run off again. It really did that thing in. It was massive and it just seemed to become even bigger the more he tried to run off. I… he...Merlin, he was _crying_. I haven't seen him cry since he was a baby!"

"And _yet_ the child still managed to escape with a wound as large as you're telling us?" Ayden announced, raising an eyebrow.

Bill nodded his head, offering a semi-smile. "Just when I was able to catch him, a Whomping Willow decided to ask me out to the Yule Ball."

 _That_ would explain his rather worn-down appearance.

As Molly digested this, she felt herself grow ill in thought. All she could knew was that her child was brutally injured and despite being brutally injured, he tried to run away. Despite possibly encountering Alec Lestrange and being in that deep, dark forest all alone, he didn't want to go home. That realisation was a jab to her heart, but Molly didn't break down when she'd come to terms with these thoughts. She was too flabbergasted, too wordless, too discombobulated….

That was _it_ , wasn't it? The ultimate justification that she had done something wrong with Percy that she had not seen before? Molly knew that she shouldn't have forced him to look after the twins and that she should've stuck up for him when he was so certain that he was not at fault. All those books that they'd ripped to shreds that he loved… dear Merlin, for _him_ , it must've been the end of the little world he made for himself in his own partially empty, unexciting room.

"I just don't understand," Molly's voice was drained, empty – _weak_.

Arthur pulled himself up and placed a hand on Molly's shoulder. "I know, love."

"Is Alec Lestrange back in Azkaban?" Penelope suddenly said, eyes big and blue.

Ayden nodded his head. "Yes, and he can't hurt you anymore."

"I don't care about that!" the golden-haired girl exclaimed. "I'm safe, but Percy isn't. Percy's hurt, and I'm afraid that that awful man might escape again and go after _him_!"

Ayden did not seem amused by Penelope's breakdown whilst Molly was frightened about what it might mean about the condition and state of her son.

"Penelope, calm down, child," Ayden instructed. "Now, let's start from the beginning… why in Merlin's name would Alec Lestrange be after Percival Weasley?"

Penelope darted her eyes at her feet. Her voice was down a few octaves. "It's…when I was attacked; Alec Lestrange gave me that potion that…that made my hair grow and try to hurt me. My hair strands were like snakes. They wrapped around my neck, and they were getting thicker and bigger. It was getting _so hard_ to breathe… it was awful!"

Her eyes were now soft and light in colour. There were tears at the corner of her eyes.

Molly's heart had gone out for the poor girl. Nobody should ever have such an experience at any age, and she bet that poor Penelope genuinely thought that she was to die.

Penelope tried to blink away her tears, and continue on with her story, "Alec Lestrange put his wand away. Percy picked it up and bounced off the spell. He only needed a few words, and because Lestrange didn't have his wand, it _worked_. We ran off together. He kept me fed. He made sure I was safe… we were attacked by a manticore too! He was so big, and _ugly_."

She then gestured towards Bill erratically. "He was there! He _saw_!"

"A _manticore_?" Molly responded, feeling as if every brain cell in her head had just exploded in a fit of pure restlessness. She shook her head adamantly, "A _manticore_?!"

Bill slowly nodded his head. "Yes, we saw a manticore. We managed to dodge it."

"Percy, he—"Penelope was cut off by Bill's statement afterwards.

Bill continued to state, "It was wounded and very weak. We were able to get past him easily and escape, and it's not really something that's worth mentioning at all."

Penelope looked flabbergasted, but Molly did not know why. These stories were making Molly more agitated and desperate. Those woods were dangerous! She wished that Charlie here as well instead of out there in the woods by himself as well. Merlin knew what kind of trouble that boy would get into. Molly shouldn't have let Arthur leave them there…

"I will take Penelope back home," Ayden announced, shaking his head. "She's starting to look like Claire. She needs to calm herself down before she says more ludicrous spat."

"But Percy…he…" Penelope was stammering, tears bubbling in her eyes. "Bring him back."

"Your little friend will be fine," Ayden insisted.

Ayden Clearwater caught sight of Henry Wells, whom seemed to be rather self-satisfied at what Penelope had said about her encounter with Alec Lestrange. _Really, Henry?_ Molly wanted to say. She honestly barely believed a word coming of the girl's tongue considering she'd been scared half to death.

She watched as Ayden and Penelope disappeared down the hall, and Molly remembered that they could not apparate within the Ministry, and probably were headed outside to apparate. She hoped that Claire was alright, and that Penelope would be too. She sounded so bright, and she'd hate it if anything happened to threaten that intelligence she harboured.

"That isn't proof, Henry," was what Arthur stated. "I'm not sure that I trust the statements of an eleven-year-old that's been scared half to death."

Henry was about to retaliate, but he nodded his head. "You're probably right, Arthur…. Perhaps, I've blown things out of proportion. I was just so… _stunned_ myself. Perhaps, whoever had Lestrange in that state had disappeared long before I've shown up. I mustn't assume that…ah, the thought seems ludicrous now. I can see why you were all against it."

Molly didn't miss how Henry insisted on the word _probably_. She wondered herself if the incident that Penelope described could be plausible, but shook her head. She knew Percy too well. He didn't like to play Quidditch because of the fact that it was 'too dangerous' and if he had gotten himself filthy with rain or mud, he disappeared back into the house, demanding his mum drop whatever she was doing and attend to him.

Molly looked back at Bill, whom seemed to have that look that told her that something was definitely on his mind, but he had been pushing it away too much.

"Let's just go home," Molly said. She was missing the rest of her children. "It's been a long day."

With a heavy sigh and a gentle nod of the head, they departed. Molly disappeared along with her family, and went back home. The minute that she came back home, Sally nearly bolted out of the house in a way that made Molly think that she'd just left Azkaban.

"I am _never_ babysitting for you again, Molly!" Sally exclaimed. She seemed stressed.

Sally now had various objects in her unkempt, black hair (was that a sugar quill?), and her lips were swollen for some reason. The woman's eyes were wide and alert. Her pretty robes had holes in it. There were several pieces of furniture that seemed to be in a rather tragic state. There was an abundance of laughter and tears all about – the twins laughing, Ron crying and silent Ginny just looking confounded.

"In fact, we _aren't_ even friends anymore," Sally announced coldly. As she moved, a few spoons seemed to fall from her hair.

"They were just playing," Molly tried to defend her children. Fred and George seemed to be running about the place. Little Ron seemed to be hurt. "How did Ronald get hurt? What's wrong? I thought you were _looking after them_ to make sure that they didn't get hurt!"

"I was looking after these hoodlums!" Sally said before pointing towards the twins as they passed by. "These are absolute nightmares. I don't even know how you could deal with them! Two minutes with them and I was ready to bloody end my life! And you've had children _after_ them as well?"

She pushed through Arthur and Bill as she continued her argument, "No wonder Percy left! A child made to take care of _these two_? They should be thrown in bloody Azkaban! Stealing my wand and doing all kinds of nonsense in the house! I don't know what they've broken and don't even care anymore! Dear Merlin, how did that little boy of yours even withstand this house for so long? I'd run away too! I see it now, Molly! He's the only one that's had a bit of _sense_ knocked into him!"

Sally strutted outside. Bill was just about to have at her but a sad, guilt-ridden Molly grabbed his arm and pulled him close to her.

"Go check on Ronald. I'll put the kettle on and get something for his wounds," Molly demanded.

Bill nodded his head mutely and scooped up little Ron in his arms and spoke to him in a gentle manner. Arthur was able to put the twins back under control in seconds without having to shout at them like usual.

The house was quiet and somber as Molly made her tea.

She couldn't help but think about what Sally had told her. She did know that no babysitter had ever taken to Fred and George, and yet she found it okay to let Percy take care of them. Everywhere she turned was a constant reminder of what she did wrong with Percy and how badly she had wronged him. Ron's tiny injury made her feel sick when she thought of how Bill had described Percy's wound – a wound that might even _kill_ her son if he didn't get some help for it soon.

Molly closed her eyes and looked back at the clock. Her own handle was pointing towards _Lost_.

LEANING down to the ground, Percy's eyes flickered back towards Charlie, whom seemed to be exhausted. They'd been running after each other for more than a solid hour. Percy had climbed up a big tree a minute ago. The colossal amount of blood pouring from his leg was scaring him. It was _extremely painful_ as well.

The second he laid down again, the pain had spread against his body. It radiated to every part of him and it hurt _so, so, so much_. He felt close to throwing up from the pain.

Percy had no food with him anymore, and the water was far away. He was very thirsty and very hungry… and he was bleeding a whole lot and didn't know how to stop the scary bleeding. When he pulled up his robe, he saw how much blood there was and felt a little lightheaded. His heart was thumping from pain. Was he going to _die_? He didn't want to die. He just wanted to get out of these woods and-and- _and_ -

"Percy, _please_ ," Charlie said, his voice raspy. He seemed bone-weary. "Look, I won't try to climb. I know that if I do that, you'd probably fling yourself off and end up harming yourself even more."

It was getting so dark outside. There were things here that could tear them both alive that came at night.

Charlie sighed deeply before saying, "How about this? Just let me take you to a healer."

Percy knew where this was headed. He'd be in St Mungo's and then he couldn't go away. Then again, he was bleeding _so, so much_ his head was hurting him and he was starting to see white spots in his vision. He was being very foolish for not going with Charlie but he didn't trust his older brother. Charlie just wanted to take Percy back home where he would be yelled at and probably never get another book in his life because he was such a disobedient scoundrel. They mightn't even give him new robes or new books.

Percy clung tightly onto his bag, and shook his head. "No," he paused. "Go away."

"Percival, you're being childish!" Charlie exclaimed, as he waved his arms around furiously. "Get down from there, or I will climb up and _drag_ you home if I must."

The freckled ten-year-old didn't find the will in him to move.

He tried to shift his weight, but he ended up sliding off the branch and falling into a bush just beside the tree. He spat out the leaves that he'd accidentally consumed, his head heavy and his heart heavier. He found himself being slowly whisked away from the thorny bushes, and the muddy ground.

Charlie scooped a filthy Percy up in his arms, and the fitful ginger tried to fight it. He _really_ did. It wasn't enough.

"That's it," Charlie huffed, voice dark and angry. "We're going home and we'll talk about this later."

Percy wanted to hop off, run off or do something, but he physically couldn't. His body was so weak, as he curled up in Charlie's arms. He was in _so, so much_ pain.

"Why did you do it?" Charlie asked angrily, water dripping off his haphazard red hair.

Charlie rarely ever got angry but when he did, he didn't sound like himself. That frightened Percy. He expected that Charlie might even be relieved that he'd go back home, but if Charlie was angry, then what about the rest of his family? Were they going to take him home, give him a good talking to and then throw him out again for the bad things he'd done?

Percy didn't answer Charlie's question.

"Talk to me, you little rugrat!" the fifteen-year-old suddenly exclaimed, tightening his grip onto Percy's bruised and aching body. It made him hurt enough to cry out in pain.

"Why did you run away?" Charlie announced in that cold, condescending tone.

They'd been running for so long. He bet that that was what made Charlie so angry. That he'd wasted most of his elder brother's day trying to chase Percy and he just wouldn't stop.

Percy looked away, as he suddenly found tears filling his eyes. He sobbed, his body rocking with the distress from his wound. He pulled off his robes a little to see how big the wound had become. It just seemed to get bigger somehow, and Percy felt so woozier just looking at it.

"What in _Merlin's_ name…?" Charlie seemed surprised at this. "Is it really _this_ big? And you've been running for the past hour? Merlin, Perce, how _stupid_ are you?"

Percy didn't respond to either one of Charlie's acerbic statements.

Percy's eyelids fell heavy from the blood loss and fatigue. His body seemed to be close to shutting down. His limbs were floppy and fell to his side, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

WHEN Percy woke up, he seemed to be in St Mungo's – judging by the very white walls. His stomach was sloshing angrily, and his bag didn't seem to have been confiscated for review yet. It laid on a chair close by. He looked down at his body – covered in mud, blood, grime and torn leaves. He smelled awful. He realised just how badly he wanted a shower right then. He felt so _filthy_.

He could hear the healer try to explain the situation to Charlie.

"He'll be fine if we just keep him hospitalised for a few months. I controlled the bleeding. If it had gone on any longer would definitely mean your brother would be either in a fatal condition or dead by now!"

 _Fatal condition or dead?_ Percy's mind repeated the healer's statement. That had to be a lie, because Percy did not have anyone looking after him. He was alone, but then again, he could see how late it must be right now. How dark it was. It was probably past the time that most people would stay in St Mungo's.

Ever since the war had ended, there was less need for long hours in the hospital for wounds that didn't need much care. It was becoming rarer for someone to need twenty-four hour supervision.

"I suggest you Floo your parents immediately," the healer continued.

Percy's anxiety suddenly rose. He did not want to see his parents to see how angry they'd be. If Charlie was angry enough to call him stupid, then he didn't want to know what his parents would say. He picked up his bag from the chair and surveyed the contents – all in one piece.

 _Please don't_ , his body screamed. _Please let's just go home. Nothing is worth this pain._

Despite feeling the worst pain he'd felt in his life, Percy cracked open the window. He stared outside to inspect his surroundings. There was a tree close by that he'd just have to jump to. It wasn't a long jump – a pathetic one actually. The roads didn't seem busy. He could only see a few specks of people.

He climbed out the window and down the tree. It made the pain _worse_. He… he wanted to hack his leg off.

He slid down to the ground, curling himself up and pitying himself for a few seconds before he grabbed his bag and tried to walk away from St Mungo's. He cursed himself for having red hair (it _always_ stuck out!) and manoeuvred his way through the crowd. He moved very slowly and unsteadily. He fell a few times. The pain was so great that he felt tears slowly falling down his eyes. He could barely move and he felt uncomfortable. He sat up slightly and moved bits of dirt and grass to see that there was a tiny silver object that he couldn't quite identify that he'd fallen on. He picked it up and found himself swirling in a vacant abyss. The little silver thing was a _portkey_ – a very unsuspecting one. His head was racing as he was transported. He did not know what was going on or where he was going.

He fell to a floor with a thud. He hissed out in suffering and looked around. He was definitely somewhere else. He stood up, and tried to steady himself with a lamppost (his leg hurt _so, so bad_ ). There were muggle cars driving by him and splashing him with rain. Percy's eyes caught sight of a sign…

Percy Weasley was in _muggle Brighton_ with a leg he wanted to sever off, and no means of going _anywhere_.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

* * *

When Arthur heard from Charlie that Percy was safe in St Mungo's, he wasted no time in shaking his wife up even as late as it was (around three in the bloody morning) so that she could go see her son. This nightmare just had to end _now_.

Bill was still awake for some reason and had been instructed to watch the little tots that should be asleep by now ( _ahem_ FredandGeorge _ahem_ ).

The minute that Molly had heard that there was a chance that she could see Percy, the sleepiness in her eyes disappeared in seconds. A heedful Molly nearly dumped their supply of Floo powder to the floor in her anxiousness.

The minute that they had arrived to the hospital, Charlie led them to Percy's room. The healer did not seem to be here and neither were any nurses. This raised Arthur's suspicions, but he kept the thoughts to himself.

The minute they walked into Percy's room, they were stunned.

Molly's face fell in a way that made Arthur feel ill. The patch of blood and dried leaves that rested in place of where there son should be had left Arthur both terrified and enthralled. How was there no supervision for his child? _Especially_ a child with a wound as bad as Percy's? The poor thing probably couldn't even walk from what Bill had told him! So, why wasn't he _here_?

Molly crouched down to the soiled sheets, and stared at them with agape expression.

"What is _this_?" she hissed. "Where is my child?"

And what could he say? What could Arthur Weasley say to his wife?

His eyes were on the sheets, marred with dark red. There was no way that he had lost this much blood in the short time that he had been here. How could Percy even walk? Did he walk? Did he _fly_? Just from the state of the sheets, Arthur had concluded that his son should be in critical care now at the very least.

Arthur found himself sick with disgust. He looked back at Charlie as if it was all his older son's fault and his fifteen-year-old son looked beside himself. A look of pure horror etched on his face as Arthur realised... the clock at home might be permanently stuck on _Lost_. Percy's empty room could not comfort them. Their little child could be dead right now, and he mightn't even get the chance to understand _why_ this had to happen.

"Where's my baby?" Molly called out again in distress to the silence she'd received. "Why isn't he _here_?"

She grabbed his pillow and brought it close to her. It probably didn't even smell like him. It looked like it smelled like the fresh, clumped blood that was adorning the sheets.

"It's alright, Mum," Charlie said, sounding exhausted… they were all exhausted.

Molly shook her head, and suddenly noticed small ginger curls on the bed. She picked them up and went about pocketing them into her robes. Arthur moved to embrace her because that was all he could do. He tried to comfort her the only way he could.

"We'll find him," Arthur insisted softly. "We'll find him tomorrow. I promise. I'll bring him home."

It suddenly dawned on him – _the day!_ It was Percy's birthday! He had turned eleven. It was three in the morning. It was their child's birthday… and all they had of him were a few red curls and bloodied sheets.

Upon Arthur's realisation – he repeated, "We'll find him... I'll bring him home for his birthday."

He then laughed and added on, "You can make him that dull banoffee cheesecake that he adores so much. I'll bring him a few books to restore his collection again… how does _that_ sound?"

Molly only glanced back at the sheets.

Arthur honestly wouldn't be lying. He almost felt like he should be looking for a body rather than a person. The thought of his child being out there amongst strangers with no food, money or water was frightening. He did not know where Percy was, or if he was spotted outside St Mungo's. This was the magical world. He could be _anywhere_ now that he was out of the woods. And he – _he_ made Molly the promise that he would find their child. She didn't believe him. He could tell from the way that she kept on staring back at those sheets, as if they were his death sentence.

"This is _my_ fault," he heard Charlie say, deadpanned. "I…I shouldn't have yelled at him."

His fifteen-year-old child glanced back at Arthur with a somber expression on his face. If Charlie had failed Percy, then what about himself? Arthur was his _father_ for Merlin's sake. How could he even let this happen? How could his child be involved in several rumoured and confirmed near death experiences and he have nothing to say about any of them?

"We'll find him," Charlie repeated Arthur's statement. "We found him before. We'll find him again—"

A healer had entered into the room. He seemed to be just as stunned as they were. He moved towards the bed and stared at it in alarm. He hadn't said anything for the few minutes that he was there, just staring vacantly at the hospital cot as if Percy was just going to materialise out of thin air.

"Where is my child?" Arthur's tone was rarely so demanding and acerbic. "From what I've been told, he was admitted with a severe leg injury. What has happened to him? Where has he gone…? I'll also have you know that I work with the Ministry, and I will definitely file a report for departmental misconduct and I have enough friends to ensure that your practice does not continue to harm others."

The healer seemed to stutter, "I-I think I might've just lost him. I-I…"

Arthur scoffed coldly, "How could you _lose_ a patient? One that probably couldn't even walk!"

"Please don't file a report, sir!" the healer expressed. His green eyes wide and he looked rather young. He probably just started in his field. "See, I was…I was…"

The young healer bit his lower lip and looked back at the bed. "Merlin's ghost, I didn't… see, when your son, Charlie, brought him in a while ago, and I had a look at him. I was supposed to go home but I extended my shift to look over at him. Since the war ended, a lot of healers took vacations from this sort of thing. I'm still relatively new to this. When he came in, I stabilised his bleeding. I placed him down, explained the situation to Charlie and went to tell my superiors that I was staying the night. They had me do some filing and I don't have any assistants. Your child is the first time I even attempted to control a bleeding like _that_."

The healer took a deep breath. He looked frightened. "I just…he was so young and so tired. I didn't think he'd just leave the hospital. When I left him, he wasn't bleeding at all but that might be my fault. Certain charms take practice for them to be effective. I've just temporarily closed the wound to control his bleeding until I could go down to get him a few dittanies. The supplies are low after the war. I had to file in some paper work regarding that as well…and- _and_ \- just Merlin, how could he even _walk_? I've given him a potion for his pain but I didn't think it was that effective since the poor thing still looked like he was suffering. I couldn't give him anything stronger because he's still a child. I'd need your consent for a stronger potion."

Arthur wanted to respond to that, but he couldn't.

In fact, he couldn't deny the young healer his perfectly sound explanation. The universe had simply decided to play in Percy's favour, somehow allowing him to escape before his parents could see him. He found himself looking at the trail of blood leaking from Percy's hospital cot, the trail that ended at the window. Arthur cracked open the window and stared down. He could not see a red blur, or anything that was small enough. It seemed vacant.

His child couldn't have gotten _that_ far, could he?

Arthur's face suddenly crumpled as he remembered something he now wanted to forget, "I remember this report from the Ministry about the hospital. I remember that St Mungo's grounds have been found to be one of the biggest sites for finding and disposing portkeys because it is a relatively easy-to-remember location."

" _Portkeys_?" Charlie said, deadpanned. "You've got to be joking."

Arthur shook his head. The realisation had made him lose the last bit of hope of even finding Percy. His son could be somewhere in a desert, bleeding into his wound and dying. There would be nothing they could do about it. Even if Arthur ran a search on all portkeys used within the last twenty-four hours (and he will. _Of course he will_ ), what were the chances of him finding his son _alive_?

He glanced back at Molly, whom was staring down at the ground with a vacant expression on her face.

"This is it, isn't it?" Molly said in a soft voice, turning away from the window. "He's _gone_ , isn't he?"

Arthur could practically feel his heart sink, hearing his wife's voice. She wouldn't even look at him. She moved away from the window. She didn't even look back at the sheets. There were tears already running down her cheeks. His hopeful wife that believed in fairytales and unlikely things no longer believed that Percy was alive. She looked like she was accepting that he was dead. He had to be dead.

"Molly, I'm sorry," Arthur said in a voice just as soft.

Molly's eyes darkened slightly, as she stated, "I don't care, Arthur. Just—just take me _home_. I don't want to hear about this anymore. I just…"

She shut her eyes for a few moments, steadying her breath as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. "You'll…you'll get his body to me, won't you? So we… we could give him a proper burial," her voice was wavering now, as she let sobs rake out from her body. She placed her head in her hands.

"Of course, of course," Arthur said, as he moved to hold her again.

She shied away from him and looked back into his eyes.

Molly was often too soft and rarely angry, but right now, there was an anger in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a long, long time. "So you admit it too… that our child is gone. There's nothing we could do?"

"Shhh," Arthur said, as he pulled her close. He was glad when she didn't push away again. "It's alright."

"Our child is probably dead from a wound that we could've saved him from," Molly said stoically, before adding on, "How is _anything_ going to ever be alright again?"

Charlie sighed, "Let's go home, Mum. You're tired and you've had a long night. You need some rest, okay?"

Arthur sometimes was jealous of how well Charlie handled these situations. He saw Molly nod her head a few times. She was shaking so badly, and it was hard to see his wife like this.

"Okay," she said, nodding her head. "Let's just go. There's nothing more we can do here."

DRACO Malfoy was not happy about the sights in Brighton. His father had taken him here a few years back, and it was much nicer then. It was absolutely appalling now! He was rather unhappy with his father. He knew that his father loved him (supposedly), but Lucius obviously wasn't trying hard enough considering that their 'holiday' was effortlessly _boring_! The six-year-old sighed deeply. A few hours ago, he'd asked for some ice-cream. Draco had decided not to settle for anything less than what he deserved – which, of course, was his beloved dragon fruit ice-cream and oh, a chocolate-orange bun. It was three am when he had decided to wake up his parents, complaining of a hunger that could only be satisfied by specific desserts.

Lucius was cross with him at the moment, but Draco did not care as long as he had his well-awaited food.

Draco groaned, as he chewed his bun. Even _these_ used to taste better before!

They walked down muggle Brighton with ease. Draco had had these buns and ice-creams from a shop when he was younger and had reminisced their texture and taste for so long that it surprised Draco that he'd built up his expectations far, far too much. It was the only shop that Draco had recognised in muggle Brighton, and he'd only gone in a few times. His younger self had fallen in love with it. _Pathetic_!

"You better eat it, you slimy half-pint," Lucius demanded, tone caustic. "And the next time you decide to have a craving for some _substandard_ muggle treats, I will show you my cane, boy—now, hurry up before your mother wakes up and realises you're missing! All of Azkaban's dementors wouldn't be able to stop her."

Whilst Lucius always threatened to hit Draco, it never quite happened. Just the thought of it made the silver-haired boy smirk, as he continued to chew. He did admire his father – a Ministry figure that was infused with power, reputation and wealth. What wasn't to like?

Draco noticed a ginger-haired boy limping against the lamppost in the distance. It just _had_ to be a Weasley!

"Look, father, one of those dim-witted, vile Weasley's might've sold their belongings to somehow pay for a holiday," Draco stated; voice as smooth as honey.

In reality, Draco did _not_ know the meaning of those words, but he had heard his father say them. He felt pride for his immaculate reiteration of his father's words.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "It's doubtful it is one of those redheaded cretins…a comical thought. A _Weasley_ heading towards wizarding Brighton? They wouldn't have enough money to buy themselves half a cup of pumpkin juice, let alone enough to sustain a holiday. If they even know what a holiday _is_."

"There's only the little one," Draco realised, surprised. "Where's the rest of them?"

"I suppose they reproduced so often that they had to have defects," Lucius huffed to himself, obviously amused at his own jokes. "Perhaps, this one didn't make the cut."

Draco found himself grinning maliciously at the thought.

As they edged closer to that lamppost, Draco was able to see that his suspicions were correct. The boy leaning against the lamppost had the characteristic highly freckled skin, bright red curls and robes so old that Draco swore the house elves had more extravagant clothing.

"Draco, be wary," Lucius said in a cold tone of voice. "You might get _infected_."

That was when the young silver-haired heir to the Malfoy name had noticed the presence of a large gash at the Weasley's foot and the trail of blood following it. The blood was gushing and pouring out of _its_ pale, freckled body and _it_ was shaking in a rather frightful manner.

"Are you going to help it?" Draco said in disdain. Suddenly, he saw a wand poking out of the weasel's bag. He was surprised. "Father, he's armed."

Lucius looked over at the redhead for a few moments. "So, those rumours are _true_. This foul creature decided that he would try to leave the genetically and mentally challenged family of his with no sense of direction. An Auror suspected he was involved in the attack against our friend, Alec Lestrange."

Draco shook his head. "He's little. He couldn't have done anything to a Lestrange."

"Alec Lestrange is an absolute loon," Lucius stated. He smoothly stared over at the quivering, poorly boy. "He's not been here for long. If we leave him here, I don't get the answers that I _need_ and this deformity will probably die in less than an hour or so."

"We have questions?" Draco chimed. What could they possibly need from _that_ _thing_?

Lucius smirked, and nodded his head. "Yes, Draco, we have questions. I'll take the mutation to the hospital in wizarding Brighton, and when he's not dying of the most ridiculous looking leg injury I've seen since the war, then we'll get the _answers_ that we need to these questions."

Draco nearly dropped his bun when the freckled boy's body gave away and he passed out.

"Draco!" the silver-haired man called out angrily. "Eat that bloody ice-cream of yours and don't you dare waste that insipid muggle bun."

AFTER three days' worth of treatments, stabilisation and blood transfusions, Lucius Malfoy had found that the redheaded child was able to survive even after losing a vast quantity of his blood.

Currently, the curly-haired boy was slowly regaining some form of robustness in his frame and rosiness in his cheeks. He did not look as grey as previously and his skin was not tough and rubbery as before. It was softer, and far more pliable to the Malfoy's touch.

Of course, that blasted son of his had insisted on copious amount of ice-cream within the last few days.

In fact, Draco was now eating a cupful of green tea ice-cream with clumps of passion fruit. He was dully staring over at the redhead, and Narcissa seemed to be tapping the floor repetitively with her foot in complete and utter agitation.

"Why did you have to take it into the hospital? Don't we have enough problems without you having to bring that – that _thing_ – into our lives?!" Narcissa called out; tone frustrated and exhausted.

Draco looked confused. He always was his mother's child at heart, that little crook. "Mother, Father obviously has some Ministry matters to attend to with _this_ thing… oh, let's go back to the cabin and make fun of the house elves!"

He then added on, "I can't stay here any longer. I'm afraid that the weasel's lack of brain cells is going to affect my development."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. He had half a mind to ask his silver-haired son if he even _knew_ half the things he said. He was getting better and better at reiterating Lucius' comebacks and comments, but obviously lacked the sturdiness that Lucius had acquired over many years of insulting others, and expressing his superiority over them. He hoped that the cretin picked up some good qualities instead of being a whiny, annoying simpleton like his mother was.

He watched his son leave, and Narcissa huff. "Lucius, you should learn from your son!"

That comment was so absurd Lucius didn't even feel the least bit offended. "He should learn from me. If Draco becomes anymore like you, I'd assume he'd morph into a woman overnight."

Narcissa glared over at him, and pulled Draco close to her as they left.

Lucius glanced back at the redhead by the bedside. He seemed to be awake. Big, blue eyes were staring back at him and probably had been for some time now. He seemed calm and content within himself. It was then that Lucius had also realised that the child was immensely weak. His hand was on his bag, which the man had, of course, confiscated previously – the collection of vials and potions that he'd seen were satisfying.

"Give them back," the redhead said, his voice tired and low. He obviously noticed how empty his bag was.

Lucius placed his cane on the bed and placed his hand atop the disfigured child's bed. "What is your name?"

"Percy," his voice still low; he then repeated, "Give them back."

Lucius kept his gaze on Percy's face for a few moments before he said, "The healers have stabilised your bleeding permanently. They had to do it the muggle way considering you have a dittany allergy. The minute you were given one, your entire body had swollen up almost instantly – to the point where you stopped breathing. You may note that you are in hospital care simply for the fact that I took you here, thus saving your useless life. You may also note that I'm paying for your _expensive_ hospital stay, and have not turned you into the Ministry. I am not a dimwit, you characterless coward. I know what you are; a foolish runaway that's left his house probably because his mum refused to buy him that robe that he so desperately _needed_ to attract a deformed species of female just to continue on reproducing your atypical, brainless heirs."

He took his cane back and stared back at Percy with a stern expression. "Do you still want the potions, vials and wand you stole from Alec Lestrange?"

Percy nodded his head. "Yes, they're mine."

"They _were_ yours," Lucius sternly stated. "You see – they're mine now."

The silver-haired male paused for a while. He paced around the redhead's bedside. "You should be grateful. I could've left you to die out there with your inferior gene pool but instead, I offer you attention from top healers. I do not get so much as a _thank you_ now, you ungrateful scum. I have half a mind to let you pay for your own bills or perhaps, throw you back into that ghastly family of yours."

Percy's eyes darkened as he stared at the Malfoy male, "I'd rather die than go back to that house."

Lucius was surprised. He'd never heard that much familial contempt in all his life. He had to appreciate any form of hatred that was towards the Weasley family. Perhaps, Arthur and Molly had done something wrong by producing a child that had more than two brain cells.

Percy then pulled up his robes, where there seemed to be large bandages and stitches covering up his leg. At the sight of his appalling injury, he glanced back at Lucius and repeated, "I'd rather die."

DOUSED with a cold bucket of water, Charlie Weasley woke up with a stat. He was staring over at his older brother, whom was toying with his earring – something he did when he was either nervous or in deep thought.

 _"What was that for, you bloody tosser?!"_ Charlie exclaimed, voice high with agitation.

Bill's facial expression didn't change as he pulled out a vial of the Draught of Sleep. "You've woken your whole bloody house with your screaming. Ginny and Ron are a mess and mum's been up since half four."

 _Screaming?_ Charlie closed his eyes before he remembered that he'd been dreaming about Percy. He soon took the potion from Bill's hand and downed it down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bill asked, but by then, Charlie was already asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

Arthur had not been able to sleep that night after his wife's conclusion about his son's death. It didn't help that Charlie had been screaming in his fitful sleeping, and had woken the whole bloody house up. That night, he held his crying wife until she had stopped crying. He took her home, and laid her to bed. He walked into the kitchen and only when he was sure that he was alone, he started to cry too.

He cried for his missing son and all the missed opportunities that had embodied themselves before him, yet Arthur thought that Percy 'didn't need them' because he was already so factual and intelligent.

Whilst he was maneuvering through the household, he found Percy's plate. It was a small one that Molly had bought for him because his son had wanted it so badly. It was back in those days where his favourite colour was blue (nowadays, it was black) and he ate a gracious amount of his mother's cooking. He laughed and smiled more in those days. Those days just slowly disappeared—and then _he_ disappeared.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Little Ginny was standing by the doorway. She yawned and then seemed to notice the tears falling down from her father's eyes. "Daddy? Are you _crying_?"

The man just stared at his daughter. He could not hide his tears, or pretend that they weren't there. Little Ginny walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his leg. She pressed her head against his knee, and then said in a soft voice, "Percy's gone, isn't he? Percy? He's gone. That's why you and Mum are so sad nowadays. Percy's _dead_ , isn't he? He's dead? He's not coming back?"

"No, Gin," Arthur said in a soft and low voice. "He's not coming back."

Ginny nodded her head, looking saddened. "I'm not going to leave you, Daddy."

Somehow, hearing her soft voice and her statement made his heart melt. It made his night just a tiny bit more bearable. His little princess… with all the commotion around Percy's disappearance and his definite probable death, all that Arthur could think about was getting his child back. He somehow had forgotten in the grand scheme of things that he had ones at home that were yearning for his attention.

"Come on. Let's take you over to bed," Arthur announced. She cracked a smile so wide that he couldn't help but smile back at his daughter.

THAT same day after returning home from work and having a hearty meal with the family, Arthur decided that he and his wife had the right to mourn his death, but they _had_ to keep on living for the rest of the lot.

Percy's disappearance was a black plaque that had consumed the family. It had been eating away their thoughts ever since it had happened. They mirrored the emptiness in his room and lived in a consistent fear. The whole thing was a big, dark cloud washing over them and engulfing their very essence. If his wife's vision was anymore clouded, she would not be able to _see_. She had other children to take care of and she had to be strong for _them_ because those children had lost their brother just as Arthur and Molly lost their son.

After dinner, he stayed by his wife's side as she started to wash the dishes. The boys were still fighting over bits of dessert – that crisp apple crumble that Molly had made.

Arthur placed his hand firmly on Molly's shoulders, noticing her dull eyes and her lacking expression.

"Percy is dead," Arthur suddenly announced, stunning the room to silence. "Percy's dead, Molly."

"I know," she said in a quick and hurried tone.

 _No. She didn't._ She wanted to think that she knew. She _needed_ to hear it from him, and needed the thought to percolate through their mind. There was no point in waiting for him to return home. It was done with.

"Say it, Molly," Arthur demanded. "Accept it."

"I have," she said, though she refused to reiterate it. She placed down the last bit of the plates. Arthur grabbed her hand, which was trembling. She shuddered as he made her gloss over that blue circle from Percy's little plate.

Arthur then suddenly stared back at the clock. "Take off his handle from the clock, Molly."

"No," she insisted, her voice cold and unforgiving.

Arthur shook his head before giving another order, "Break that plate."

"No," she repeated again, her voice more insistent.

Arthur sighed in exasperation, and then warned in a stern voice, "Molly. It's important that you—"

"I don't want to break it," Molly huffed coldly. "It's a perfectly good plate."

Glancing back at the table, Arthur was glad to note that his younger ones weren't listening. Meanwhile, Charlie gave him a look that would've made You-Know-Who shudder. Knowing Molly wouldn't listen to him about the plate, Arthur switched the subject entirely.

"I think we should turn Percival's room into a nice little knitting room for you. You've always complained about how difficult it is to knit and sit down on that old chair. How there isn't any room in the house."

Molly had placed the plate she was cleaning down. "Get out of my sight, Arthur."

Arthur moved away from his wife, feeling slumped and defeated.

The entire house stayed silent for the rest of the day.

CHARLIE Weasley was rummaging through the medicine cabinet in haste. He'd been having nightmares for the past few days. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing the blood dripping out of Percy's leg wound. In some of those dreams, the blood just thickened and thickened and _thickened_ until it was the consistency of cake batter. In other dreams, it poured like water from a faucet. He remembered how Percy was unconscious in his arms. He remembered how he'd left the hospital to get his parents.

 _This was all his fault._ They had him! They had him... he slammed his hand against the wall when he couldn't find that bloody Draught of Sleep.

"What are _you_ looking for?" he heard Bill call out. He didn't have to look back to know that Bill was giving him a piercing look. Charlie could practically _feel_ it. "Charlie, you can't be taking one of those every time you bloody wake up. What are you trying to bloody do? _Kill yourself?"_

He didn't say anything. He half-wanted to retort and tell Bill that him being consistently asleep was no better than Bill's being always awake. It was obvious too. Bill looked one second away from fainting. Midday, Ginny gave him a pillow.

And Charlie? Well, he just kept on rummaging through the mostly empty cabinet.

THAT very night, Arthur had come to their room with one of Percy's robes. She'd started to buy him his own robes when she realised how thin and tall he was compared to the rest of his children. Bill's old robes were too big. Charlie's old ones were too short. Arthur watched her come out of the bathroom, looking rather haggard and upset. There were tear streaks evident on her cheeks. When she got into the bed, she immediately wrapped her arms around herself.

Arthur slowly moved towards his wife, clinging onto the fabric of those small robes.

 _It smelled like him_.

It was the only thing in this house that smelled like him anymore. Arthur found it when he was looking through Percy's room – when he had dismantled his bookshelf, when he'd stripped his bed, when he tore his parchment paper apart and threw away all his mood quills. Arthur cried as whatever little in his room had fallen apart into pieces. He cried so hard that his entire body felt like it had turned to rubber. His heart pumped so loudly in his chest that he remembered; _you are alive,_ followed by _but Percy is not._

" _Where_ did you find that?" her eyes were soft.

Arthur then looked down at his feet, and then bit down on his lower lip. "I tore Percy's room apart."

"You're joking," Molly said, eyes alert as she stood up from her bed and marched down to Percy's room. "Merlin's name, Arthur, if I find out you aren't joking then…"

He followed her, and saw her standing outside his doorway.

Arthur paused as he looked at his supposed handiwork. His desk, book, closet and bookcase were demolished. He kept the wood down into the attic where he could use it for those long winter nights. He'd put away Bill and Charlie's hand-me-downs in cardboard boxes. He'd stored the nails and small clumps of metal that he didn't recognise. Everything else he found, from parchment to quills, he threw away. There wasn't much of Percy in this house, and he had to accept that there wouldn't be anymore. The room was emptier than it was when they'd first bought the house.

Molly walked inside, and stared at the four bare walls. Her eyes were large as it lapped up the _nothingness_.

Molly announced after a certain amount of time, the emotion behind her voice unreadable. "Arthur, I'll never forgive you for this, you know. I'll _never_ …"

Arthur shook his head. "You will," and she knew it too. He pulled the fabric to her cheek.

She moved to touch it; her hands were shaking as she cradled that piece of cloth to her body. It was almost as if she was cradling a newborn child. He pulled out his wand, and pulled it towards the cloth.

"No," she said, burying her face in it. "Arthur, don't."

"Let go of it, Molly," Arthur announced. He felt terrible for doing this, but he had to. He pulled her into his arms. As he held her, he was able to take away that fabric and throw it on the floor.

He pointed the wand towards it and whispered a soft " _Incendio_."

In seconds, the last physical evidence of Percy Weasley existing in this room was set ablaze. It morphed into ashes, and the smell of smoke filled the air. He heard her cries as it burned. Her cries that could've woken up everyone else in the echoing house, but it just didn't. He supposed that everyone was dead tired and Merlin knew how much Draught of Sleep Bill was giving Charlie. He held her as tightly as he could, but she tried to break free from his grip.

"What have you _done_? What have you _done to me_?" she cried out in pain; tearful. "It's gone, it's all gone."

"It's gone. It's all gone," he repeated. Arthur only clung on tighter, so tightly that he felt as if she had become a part of his being. "Breathe, Molly, it'll be alright…. it'll be alright."

A sudden swarm of silence filled the room.

He let the _nothingness_ fill them. The nothingness somehow hurt more than the pain. It hurt more than anything could. It felt as if something was lost, something like a limb had been detached from his body. It was as if something that everyone else had and deserved had been taken from him, and the realisation that screaming and denying it won't _ever_ bring it back…

She was the one to break the silence after a few moments of dwelling. "It's just a room."

This room offered a comfort that he and his wife cannot afford; the intricate idea of how Percy's presence was thoughtlessly entwined within structures of metal, paper and wood… it _wasn't_.

Arthur nodded his head, chuckling. "It's just a room," he repeated flatly. "It's all just metal, wood and parchment... it was never anything more."

Another moment of silence had gone by. Molly had just moved around to look at the walls, transfixed by the planks of wood for abnormal amounts of time. He, too, had stared at the walls after he was done dismantling it, wondering a slew of _what if_ 's and _how did this happen to me? How did this happen to my family?_

"We have six other children," he reminded her; six that were neglected ever since Percy had disappeared.

His wife's voice was low as she said, "Alright."

She looked back at Arthur with red-rimmed eyes. "What do we do now?"

Arthur then looked down. "I already had a list of portkeys with me. I will investigate them and find our son's body. We'll clean him up, and give him a proper burial as a result."

Molly nodded her head, and whispered in a soft voice "Alright."

She looked away from Arthur's face. "Are we really turning this into a knitting room?" she tried to smile, but oh, that plastic smile…

All that Arthur Weasley could do was smile back.

THE following day, Arthur returned home to see his wife was humming as she cooked in the kitchen and his boys were laughing.

The clock was missing a handle. The dining table was missing a chair. The kitchen was missing that little plate with the blue circle. It simply vanished like his child had, somehow overnight.

As Arthur walked into the kitchen with a soft smile, he found Molly whacking Bill with her cooking utensil, looking rather offended at something that he had said. He could smell the scent of a piping, hot tomato base – no doubt to prepare her spaghetti bolognese. Arthur just realised that for the past few days, they'd been consuming an incessant amount of cheap takeaways, which was highly unlike the family (aside from Bill and Charlie). After Percy's disappearance, all normal daily activities seemed to cease… up until today.

Today, Arthur spent his day checking portkeys after filing the Minister in on why, or how. The man understood enough that he had allowed Arthur to take these days as vacation days (with pay) whilst he searched for signs of his son's body… his corpse.

"Get of my kitchen now," Molly announced, looking back at Bill. It was the first smile he'd seen in days. "You're distracting me so much. If you keep this up, we'll end up having bread rolls for dinner."

Bill groaned, but then left the kitchen. He was starting his job soon, and Arthur could not wait to talk to him about his first day of work.

"Paulina told me that little Isabella got her Hogwarts letter," Molly announced after some time.

"Oh," Arthur had noted, nodding his head. "That's…that's great to hear."

Somehow, it just came to mind that Percy did not get a Hogwarts letter. Did news reach that quickly to Dumbledore that he didn't bother sending out a letter for his son? He left the kitchen afterwards, remembering that day that frightened ten-year-old Percy climbed onto his lap. He had been expressing his fear of not being sorted into Gryffindor to his father.

Arthur chuckled sadly. At least Percy didn't have to worry about that anymore.

FRIDAY was the day that Percival Ignatius Weasley was discharged from the General Hospital in Brighton. With short legs and a long torso, he felt rather awkward in the new clothing that had been bought for him. The pants that he was wearing were rather… er, _colourful_ and his shirt was so tight that he felt like his internal organs were mapped out for all of Brighton to see.

"Why is he here?" Draco was annoyed that Percy had ruined their vacation. "I don't like him."

"Nobody asked you," Lucius replied mechanically, rolling his eyes.

For some reason, Percy noticed that Draco was always eating _something_. At this moment, it was a bag of crisps that his father had bought him a few hours ago that he'd just decided to open.

Lucius sighed deeply. "Draco, share with the weasel. He obviously requires the fat more than you."

Percy's cheeks coloured in. Draco shook his head and only stuck out his tongue as a result, making his father look dangerously close to smacking him with that terribly frightening looking cane of his.

"Share with _that_ genetic mutant?" Narcissa huffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't belittle Draco to _that_."

Percy felt ill whenever he was referred to as genetically challenged. He felt a little less like a human, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He did not want to seem weak when he wasn't.

" _You_ ," Lucius pointed the cane towards Percy, staring at him with a dark expression. "Do you still want that the supplies that you stole from Alec Lestrange?"

Percy nodded his head. "Yes, I'd like _my_ things back if you please."

A smirk etched upon Lucius Malfoy's face. "Alright, I will give it to you… if you'd be so inclined as to give me a little something… well, you see, your father, Arthur, has a few confidential papers that belong to me stacked into that pesky prison of yours you call a house. If I was to take you to that filthy little house, you'd get them back to me, wouldn't you? In exchange for your supplies?"

Percy was terrified of doing the idea of doing this – stealing his father's files and getting his father into trouble just for the sake of a few things he'd stolen from Alec Lestrange. Percy was aware that if the Minister figured out that his father even had those files, he'd be fired.

The boy nodded his head towards Lucius. "Alright," he said in a whisper.

Narcissa's face softened dramatically when Percy had agreed to this. "Perhaps, the abomination isn't so bad. I still wouldn't believe _it_ until those files are secure in your hands, Lucius. This thing might still betray you. It doesn't have a loyalty to you."

 _It, it, it_ – Percy shut his eyes. "I'm not an _it_."

"I'll only believe it when I see it," Draco huffed, throwing the bag of crisps away into a bin as they passed. "A weasel helping you get your files, father... it's a _trap_."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "I'll take the chance. A trap made by those morons? I'd love to see the day where they could outwit _me_."

THEY used a portkey to the Burrow. This told Percy that Lucius had been planning this for a very long time.

The Burrow seemed quiet. Percy trudged through towards the big house, and felt his heart cry out in nostalgia. Even though he'd been properly stitched up, it was still difficult to walk and he had been limping for the past few hours. The healers said that it could either get better and he'd regain full use of his leg or he might get worse, and they'd have to sever it off after some time. It could also just stay as it was.

The floorboards were too creaky for him to move. His movements were no longer graceful due to his injury, but he took his chances.

He went in through the backdoor. He noticed that there was still some form of biscuits, and cakes. He'd wrapped them up and shoved them into his bag. Over the last few days, he had been throwing up whatever he had been eating at the hospital as a result of some potions not agreeing with his system. He remembered longing for his mother's homemade tarts when he was being force-fed tasteless scraps of chicken. He was feeling a bit better knowing that his bag was full of homemade goodies his mum had made.

Just as he moved from the kitchen to the living room, he found his heart stopping.

Bill was slouched over the couch, asleep. He looked _awful_ , like he hadn't had a proper night's sleep in days.

He tried to move as soundlessly as possible. He slowly crept up the stairs, and felt his heart pummel deep into his chest when he had made an audible sound. Realising he did not wake anyone; he climbed upstairs in a slower manner. Percy's anxiety was at an all-time high. His heart felt like it was about to rip out of his thorax. He felt like he was breaking and entering into a home that wasn't his anymore.

He immediately went to his parents' room, knowing exactly where Arthur kept those files that Lucius had wanted. He slipped inside, seeing that his parents were soundlessly asleep. He grabbed the files off the table, and held them close. His bag was too full and even if it wasn't, fumbling for the zippers might wake the parents up, and then he'd be in all sorts of trouble!

He looked back at his parents, and moved towards them. They seemed happy as they slept. He placed a hand on his father's arm, and pressed his head against it for some time. All Percy wanted to do was jump into his father's arm and beg for some form of forgiveness; for leaving them. He had even debated waking his father up, crying and slipping right between them in that bed. As he walked away, he noticed that his hands were trembling and tears were shaking, threatening to spill from his eyes. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay— _but he can't_. He'd be in all sorts of trouble for leaving.

He moved down the hallway, and then turned to catch a look of his room. That was when the sadness suddenly disappeared. His room had been dismantled to the point where there was left of _him_ , his room, were four blank walls. His room wasn't this bare when he received it.

A sudden fire filled his very bones.

ARTHUR swore he heard some sort of rustling about late at night. He thought that perhaps, Molly was tossing and turning or that the twins were up to some sort of terrible nonsense. He sighed and went to tell off his children. When he walked into the twins' room, he realised that they were indeed tired and asleep. He heard more shuffling somewhere in Percy's room.

He went back to his room and grabbed his wand. He was careful as he did so. He did not want to wake up everyone else up. The door to Percy's room was cracked open…


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

* * *

Arthur moved towards Percy's room and slithered inside as quietly as possible. He kept his wand close to his body just in case he needed to yell out any spells immediately. His family could be in some sort of danger right about now, and he didn't want to take any chances. He pointed the wand over at the offending character for a few moments.

Standing in the middle of the room was Percy – _his_ _child_ , _Percy_. His hair was an absolute mess. He looked paler than usual. His normally rather thin child was scrawnier; enough that Arthur could see his cheekbones were more prominent. His rather colourful pants were baggy and had ridden up enough that Arthur could see the ghost of that terrible wound that they'd been talking about. He'd only seen a scrap of it and felt his stomach twinge. That wound took up half of Percy's leg! It was currently stitched and bandaged the muggle way… the _painful_ way where they had to sew it in themselves.

It took a few seconds for him to see that Percy was hugging Lucius Malfoy's files to his chest. He knew those files; he'd taken them himself from the file cabinet in the Ministry.

That crook Malfoy! Sending his child here to steal files! The nerve of him!

He moved towards his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. Percy immediately jolted up, clinging to those files as he moved away from his father and towards the end of the room.

Arthur moved closer towards his son, but all it seemed to do was make Percy hyperventilate and look down. His child was _frightened_ of his own father, and that made Arthur feel sick. He had never physically harmed Percy, and he would never dare to raise his hand on any of his children, yet this did not matter to him because obviously, he had to be doing something wrong if his child did not want to look at him in the eye.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head, "What are you doing with those?"

Percy's hands were steady as he pulled the files to himself. He didn't answer Arthur's question.

Arthur's eyes moved from the files down to Percy's pants. "I want to see your leg, Percy. Is it okay if I see your wound? Bill's told me about it… I want to…"

Percy tucked the file under his arm and used one of his chubby hands to slowly move his pants leg up so that Arthur could see that bandaged gash. The wound was absolutely _massive_ , running from Percy's ankle up to his thigh and it was thicker than one of Molly's cakes. The bandage that covered the wound was already soiled with blood; the scent of which Arthur could detect from across the room.

The man slowly moved closer to inspect the damage.

Arthur's breathing was short and shallow as he moved to touch it. He slowly removed some part of the bandage just so he'd have a better look at the wound underneath. The stitching itself made Arthur want to vomit. He was furious at whoever thought that healing wounds in the muggle way was acceptable!

Percy leaned down to close the bandage, and pull down his pants.

"Give those to me," Arthur pointed towards the files, pulling his hands out.

Percy just shook his head. "No," he finally said.

Arthur's heart raced as he heard the sound of his son's voice – he hadn't heard Percy speak in so long. It somehow reinforced the idea that his child was _here_ , with him; in this little room… _alive_.

"Please give it to me," Arthur's voice held no force or anger as it would've under normal circumstances. He was begging for his son to do the right thing and return those files. "Please."

"No," Percy insisted, his voice louder and far more stern.

Arthur shook his head and smiled weakly over at his son. "You see, if I don't give back those files back to the Ministry, then I'm going to be in an awful amount of trouble for it. You don't want your father to end up in trouble now, do you?"

Percy looked back at those files and then back at his soft-eyed father. "I have to give _him_ these."

"Lucius Malfoy," Arthur's eyes darkened. He knew. "You don't owe him anything. You don't owe him this file… now, give it back, Percival. This could mean my career on the line."

Percy's eyes darkened all of a sudden, and he aged a few years. "He saved my life."

Arthur didn't know how to respond to that. He did know that Percy had to have somehow gotten help from someone about that wound, but he never in a million years would have guessed that Malfoy would stoop so low as to win his son's favour in a few acts of kindness and turn him against his own father.

"Percy, that man is nothing more than a manipulative liar," Arthur tried to steady his voice but just the thought of Lucius Malfoy smirking as he knew that he had Percy around his finger was enough to drive Arthur Weasley mad with rage.

Percy stared at his father with an angry look in his eyes.

"I don't care!" Percy exclaimed in a high voice.

Arthur didn't expect it at all, but his five-foot-six son that couldn't weigh more than Ginny had pushed the man aside and ran as fast as he could.

It took a few moments for Arthur to register what had happened before he found himself running after his redheaded son. Somehow, throughout this conversation, it hadn't registered to the man that his son still somehow wanted to leave even after all the pain that he had went through. He thought that Percy was coming home, but he was a fool!

His son was _stealing_ from them! His son!

Arthur ran outside, panting for breath.

LUCIUS Malfoy was standing outside his door, smug. The files were in his hands, and Percy was hiding behind that man. This sickened Arthur, to know that his son preferred _Malfoy_ to him.

"Percy," Arthur announced, not even caring about those files. It was his fault for mentioning them in the first place – what kind of a father mentioned files first thing when their child practically rose from the dead?

Arthur shut his eyes. "Come back home, Percy. Please."

Lucius then decided to speak, "Arthur, do you want to further torture this poor child?" he placed his _hand_ on Percy's head and Arthur had never felt such an intense need to sever off another person's extremity before. Malfoy had _no_ right to touch his son. "Your own child doesn't want to be with you."

"You _stole_ from me, Percy," Arthur tried to make him see what he did was wrong.

Lucius then raised an eyebrow. "Correction, Arthur – _you_ stole my files from the Ministry. The Minister doesn't know about these at all, does he? I could've just brought it to his attention, and have you fired from your pathetic post but I decided not to, simply out of the goodness of my heart."

Goodness of his heart! Like anyone would believe that. Arthur glared icily, "So you can blackmail me."

"That too," Lucius smoothly replied, shaking his head. "You and I both know that this is your feeble attempt at trying to dig some sort of dirt on me around the time of the war, and it won't work, Weasel. You're too idiotic to know that I'm very good friends with the poor lad that does the filing. Do you think I'd let anything discriminating go into my record? Do you think you could have one over on _me_?"

Arthur actually did. He'd been reading the thing for a while, hoping to get to some kind of theory. As long as a _Malfoy_ was part of the Ministry, he did not believe that the wizarding community was safe – especially with a Minister that was so easy to persuade. Lucius Malfoy was the master of manipulation.

"Get your hands off him," Arthur hissed.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Territorial, aren't you, Arthur?" he pulled Percy close to him.

Arthur's heart was pumping loudly in his chest. "This is some sort of sick joke, isn't it?"

Lucius smirked. "Says the man that left his precious son out on the Brighton street, _bleeding_ to his near death all on his own? _Tsk, tsk_ , Arthur…"

PERCY felt his stomach flop as he looked back between Lucius and Arthur. There was a cold tension in the air that he could not mentally cope with. He hated that Lucius was touching him and acting almost as if Percy was nothing more than a prize for Malfoy to pride around; almost showing his father ' _oh, look, I've found your little son; the one that you've been looking for after all this time. I've won'_ and it made him feel furious. Nobody was winning this time around. Nobody but him will win at the end of this.

He had noticed that Lucius was bare of vials and potions. It didn't take him long to find out that he was not going to be given the supplies that he needed.

Arthur opened his mouth to defend himself, but in all reality, he couldn't. His speechlessness made Lucius Malfoy laugh, as he brought Percy close to himself. "That's it, isn't it, Weasel? You don't have an excuse for the things that happened to this child… do you?"

"Percy," Arthur said in a soft voice. "He's lying to you. He's trying to manipulate you. I am your father… you _have_ to believe me."

Percy glanced back at Lucius Malfoy. He didn't believe a word coming out of the white-haired man's mouth. He also didn't believe anything his father had told him. He had come to the conclusion that both of them were terribly, terribly wrong. Percy stared back up at the man that had been taking care of him for years… _he hated him._

"Where's my room?" Percy suddenly sputtered; images of that empty, empty space where his bed, closet and table used to be had made him feel sick. There was nothing in that house that was _his_ anymore. He didn't care what anyone said to him – it was bloody obvious that nobody wanted him around!

He tried to hide back his tears, and it was difficult. He was in so much pain.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak and stuttered, "I-I… I thought you were dead, Percival."

His family thought he was dead, and they chucked out all of his things almost immediately; almost as if they had no value – and then they told him they cared? _Liars_. All of them!

Percy was full of so much hate and he didn't know where to displace it. "So, you got rid of all my things in _what_? A two-day period since my supposed 'death'… tell me, _father_ , what exactly were you planning to do with the space that _I_ was taking up?"

Arthur looked shameful. Good! He should be. "It… it isn't like that, son."

 _Son?_ Percy glared icily over at Arthur. "Oh no, you are mistaken. I am _not_ your son."

Percy looked down at his feet. He _hated_ this man for what he had done to him.

"Why did you do it?" his father practically yelled at him. "How dare you leave your mother, Percival? She's been in absolute hell ever since you've left. How dare you steal from me? How dare you tear this family apart for your own selfish reasons? And to think – this was over a few _books_ that you've lost!"

Books? What books? Percy then remembered that the twins had taken away his books. He felt himself grow angry. This was not just one gigantic temper tantrum. He was not _that_ stupid and pathetic that he wouldn't mind dying because of a few bloody books!

Percy shook recklessly with anger. "I hate you, I hate you… _I hate you_!"

He then stared over at his father with a cold look in his eyes. "You think I'm pitiful enough to leave this family over a few books that have been taken from me...? I was fantasising about leaving this family for so long. It is _you_ who made me resort to this. It's _you_ who ignored me. It's _you_ who made me look after the twins. You don't notice me. You don't believe me. You don't even like me. Please forgive me for thinking that I had a better chance of survival outside of the constraints of what you people have offered me!"

Normally, he'd feel some sort of pride for using an extensive amount of the vocabulary that he'd gotten from reading so much and practicing so much but he didn't care. Every word he said made him feel like he had less air in his lungs and more heaviness in his heart. It hurt so bad to try and explain things that probably meant nothing at all to the two men that were standing beside him.

Percy then stared at Arthur with a fire in his eyes. "I hate everyone and everything. Don't _lie_ to me and tell me that you care for me. If you cared, then I wouldn't have to question whether or not you do not so many times. I have been polite in asking. I have begged, and you do not listen. I have spent _months_ practicing on my writing and my vocabulary, only to be shunned consistently by the people that should have loved me. I receive no praise, or acknowledgement. _I'm just a free babysitter to you!"_

He looked over at Lucius Malfoy, whom was grinning like an idiot.

"And you," Percy glared over at the white-haired male. "I am a fool to believe any word that comes out of your lips. You are a pathological _liar_. You aren't giving me a thing."

He threw away his bag. He didn't think he could mentally take eating his mother's food. Obviously, his father didn't care if he was dead or alive, considering the first thing he questioned was why Percy was holding a bunch of files. Percy's eyes flickered around. He knew the path that took him to the forest, but then there was the path that led to Stoatshead Hill. It was surrounded by an immense fog that he could disappear there rather instantly.

"You really are a smart little cretin, aren't you?" Lucius called out coldly.

Percy stared back at him. "And a common thief," he said, before immediately grabbing Lucius' wand from its place and running off towards the direction of the hill.

He knew that it was wrong. He stole from Alec Lestrange. He stole from his father, and now, he stole from Lucius Malfoy but he _had_ to. All he wanted to do was leave his house and it was proving difficult to run away in the wizarding community. All they wanted to do was track him down and tell him they cared about him (absolute _lies!_ They cared about him but they got rid of his things immediately after his 'death?' _Pathetic_!).

The fog was at its heaviest. He couldn't tell what was in front of him or behind him.

Once he was truly in the fog, he felt a sense of security fill his very bones. Despite his limp, he was able to walk and even run at a steady pace. The only difference was the pain he got shortly during and immediately after he walked at a pace his body didn't accept or when he ran. He leaned down and placed his hand on his injured leg. He tore off a sec of the bandage and saw white fluid secreting out of his wound.

"Percy!" he heard the sound of his father screaming. "Percival!"

The anguish seemed to intensify. The white fluid was hot. Percy had tears spilling from his eyes. He was so, so tired of this. He just wanted to submit to everything. He didn't care anymore. This was too tiring.

Percy curled up beside a large boulder.

"There you are, Percy… Percy…" Arthur picked up his son from the ground, and pulled him into his arms. Percy felt so sick, knowing that he went through hell and back just to end up in the same place again. _'Home.'_

Arthur pulled his son into his arms tightly, and buried his head into Percy's shoulder. "My child, my son…"

The man was quaking, quivering, and laughing as he kept Percy close to him. "Dear Merlin, you're so light."

Malfoy seemed angry as he stomped towards their direction. Lucius reminded him of Draco in that moment – irrationally angry; a sore loser. He snatched the wand from Percy's hands.

"Lock up that abomination of yours before he harms someone," Lucius snapped, before disapparating.

Abomination. That was what he was. He had heard it so often nowadays, day in and day out with the Malfoy's – weasel, numbskull, mutation, fool, brainless, atypical, abnormality, anomaly… that _thing_. _It_. After a few seconds of being dormant, Percy fought through his father's grip but the man, whilst he didn't look strong, was able to keep Percy secured in his arms throughout their journey back to the Burrow.

"Shh… Percy, stop," Arthur said, his voice soft. "Calm down, please."

"Let me go!" Percy exclaimed, his voice high and emotional.

Dawn was breaking, and Percy felt very sick. He also felt extremely tired and sleepy. He tried to fight his father's grip, but eventually he just gave in. He buried his head in the crook of his father's neck and he cried. He didn't understand why he was being punished like this. He didn't want to go home!

"It's going to be okay," the man said soothingly, placing his hand on the back of Percy's neck as if he was a small, newborn child.

Percy's voice was soft as well. "Just let me go… please, let me go," he mumbled sleepily.

Percy didn't want to fall asleep just yet. He wanted to stay wide away just in case he'd be able to escape.

"I don't want to go home," Percy mumbled unhappily, as Arthur's grip around his son tightened. "I don't want to go home. I hate that house… I hate you, I hate you, _I hate you_!"

Arthur did not loosen his grip. He simply stared at his son with a sad expression. "Calm down, Percival."

"Let me go!" Percy exclaimed, kicking his feet up in the air. "Let go of me! I hate you! I hate you!"

PERCY realised it was over when they walked through that door.

"Home sweet home," Arthur mused to himself, as they walked up the stairs.

Bill was still peacefully asleep, unaware of the happenings of the night. The house was still and there was no sound but the sound of the clock that was swaying in motion. Percy just gave up instantly then, his body no longer fitful or trying to rebel against his father's wishes. This was _it_. He was going to get into so much trouble when he woke up from his sleep and everyone would hate him. He would not get anymore new books. He would not be taken care of at all anymore. He was going to stay in this miserable life until he was of age, and then he could leave just as he wanted.

Arthur brought Percy back to his room, where Molly was yawning and turning to her side.

Percy would not lie. He wanted to cry out to his mother, and to say that he didn't mean to leave her. He meant to leave the rest of _them_ , but he kept his lips still.

"There," Arthur breathed out, lying Percy on the empty side of the bed. "Safe and sound."

Percy stared back at the man with a dark expression. He took off his old, ugly shoes in defeat. He shed the clothing that Narcissa had gotten him and watched his father wince in distaste at the dark blue and purple bruising that covered Percy's body from head-to-toe. The bruising did not matter though – the pain of his leg distracted Percy from every other small injury inflicted on his body… _nothing_ mattered but the pain in his leg.

Arthur disappeared for a few moments and returned back with one of the twins' pyjamas. Percy knew they were the twins' pyjamas because he took care of them before he tried to run away (and he failed at that too. He failed at _everything_ ). Percy grabbed the dark blue pyjamas and wore them. It was nice to be in those big, roomy clothing again after he'd been in those terribly clothing that Narcissa had bought for him.

Percy pulled up his pant leg to show the man the gash again, and Arthur seemed to cringe. Percy traced his finger along where the white liquid was pouring out… _painfully_. It stung.

"Sleep first," Arthur insisted, rubbing his hand down Percy's shoulder. "We'll deal with that tomorrow."

Percy opened his mouth to protest (it hurt so _bad_ ), but then he realised he had no right to complain. He ran away, and this was all his fault. He turned to his side.

"It's over, Percival," Arthur slipped in the bed, wrapping his arms around his son's frame. "Go to sleep."

AT six in the morning, Bill found himself trudging around the house in frustration. He honestly didn't know what came over him last night! He was supposed to sit down on the couch for a few minutes because he was a little dizzy despite him eating more than his share of custard and cake. His friends owled him and Bill had planned to play Exploding Snap with them. However, the minute he sat down on the couch, he fell into a slumber so deep and dreamless that he'd felt like he'd been asleep for days when he'd woken up. He didn't wake up for seventeen bleeding hours. It was uncanny. For a few days, the Weasley family clock had Bill's handle stuck at _Mortal Peril_ because he'd happened to skip a few days of sleep.

He was about to chuck the clock in the fireplace last night. Floo it to Malfoy just for a bit of a laugh.

Bill sighed deeply, running his hand through his unusually scruffy hair. He remembered the last time he had such an aversion to sleep. It was because his mum kept on threatening to tear off his earring in his sleep. He didn't understand why she hated his earring so bad. She wore earrings all the bloody time... Ascending upstairs, he decided to peer into his parent's room to see if they were awake. Noticing that they were both asleep, Bill was about to leave until he realised that nestled between them was a sleeping Percy.

Rubbing his eyes, a sceptical Bill wandered over to Charlie's room. Oh, Charlie was actually _awake_ for the first time in days and there seemed to be no vials of Draught of Sleep in his room.

Bill then asked, "Do you happen to know how many bottles of firewhiskey I drank last night?"


	10. Chapter 10

_i've not replied to any inquiries that have been made in a long, long time. thus, i thought to devote this particular section of the fanfic for this. i would like to remind you of the warnings that i've already established in this fanfic previously in Chapter 4, i.e. **isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**. this still stands, and it'll be very apparent later on. in fact, you'll understand how bloody insane and relentless this fanfic was meant to be around Chapter 14-15. it's pure and utter Percy angst fest (which i **adore** ), with a lot of misunderstanding and a lot of "good intentions gone wrong" situation as you've already seen. i truly try to play out that the family has the right intentions at heart, but somehow, i always make them miss one or two things and they come out as right arses (particularly Arthur, because i truly believe that the 'Weasley rage' can literally make one do things that they do not mean to at that particular point in time and then regret it afterwards, i.e. canon Percy leaving his family in the height of the war, canon Percy and Arthur being too damn stubborn to talk to one another for most of the war, etc)._

 _to **Crazy 109** , "Getting just a tad carried away making the Malfoys overly cartoon-style super-despicable, aren't ya? Yeesh! Unless wizards on the whole are absolute morons (which might actually be near-canon, considering...)". bloody Hell, did you make me laugh my balls off. i could read this review about a thousand times and still think it was absolutely hilarious. as for the **Changeling** comment, i... had to look up what that meant. i absolutely love your thinking and wish i'd actually thought of that. it think it would've definitely worked into this fanfic quite nicely! i could've even made him stay in the forest longer and interact with different parts of it...  oh, bother._

 _to **WolfSpirit1992** , "Hmm...now that Lucius knows Percy's feelings of contempt towards his family, would this eventually turn into an unlikely sort of alliance?" interestingly enough, i'm not exactly sure how long i want to go on with their interaction but if i had them interact again, i would imagine that it could lead to an alliance - or it could be the complete opposite. i haven't exactly fine-tuned the details yet unfortunately. i have a few possible subplots that i could use the Malfoy's for thus far. _

_to **Phoenixx Rising** : funny thing about that. my original idea was that he'd been taken home by Audrey. there's another scene later on where i tried to introduce Audrey in but it didn't work out so well. it was supposed to be some sort of heart-warming scene instead, Audrey just came off completely wrong. it hit a dead-end super soon. the Malfoy's were my go-to-switch because they're super easy to write compared to what i wanted to actually write. "Arthur was an absolute jerk. He has no right to do the things he did. I really dislike him in this story." oh, Hell. you're going to want to kill him at some point then. there's a reason why there's an abuse warning (that's not exclusively for Arthur though.) _

_**McGwee** : oh! i'm glad you like the miscommunication. i think the point of all of this is the miscommunication. I'm still hoping his "sickness" is vampirism -somehow that never even came to mind when i was writing this draft, but yes, it is going to lead to this scene. first time i wrote the scene, i actually felt like i could've just about ended it there, but that would've been too cruel. i haven't thought about cross-posting this to AO3 though i do have an account there. would you like me to? i wouldn't mind to._

* * *

Chapter Ten

* * *

Molly found herself yawning as Arthur Weasley tried to shake her away. She immediately turned away from her husband, and looked over at the clock that lay on top of their table.

"Arthur, it's _far_ too early for me to wake up," she yawned, shaking her head. "Do you need me for—?"

"Molly, wake up," Arthur announced, his voice incredibly solemn. "I need to show you something."

Molly turned around, still rather sleepy. "What is it?" she said.

Her eyes suddenly cracked open in alertness, as they lapped up the image in front of her – her child, the one that she presumed was _dead_ , had his head pressed up against a big, fluffy pillow. His breathing soft but laboured. He seemed to be a ghastly paleness. His thin lips pressed into a tight line as he slept.

Arthur then said, "He just fell asleep about half an hour ago."

Molly continued to stare over at Percy's frame. Her son? Her son was lying on their bed? Her son was _home_?

Arthur squeezed Percy's shoulder softly. "I'll take him to a healer after I'm come back home. His leg is in terrible condition, and he needs some form of treatment now before it gets any worse."

Molly nodded her head, suddenly remembering Bill's description of Percy's leg. "Can I see it?"

The man slowly slid back Percy's baggy pyjama bottoms and Molly's stomach churned. She couldn't take the sight of her son's wound. It was absolutely massive and seemed to run along the full length of his leg. It was impossibly deep and thick, and there seemed to be some form of white discharge escaping from the wound. Part of the bandage that had been covering the wound was torn, and it made Molly's stomach flip-flop, horrified at how bad it must've looked like before it was attended to ( _poorly_ , she wanted to add).

Molly's heart had sunken low into her chest.

"I'm off to work, Molly. I'll be back tonight to take him to the healers," Arthur announced.

Molly didn't understand. How did _this_ happen?

"How did you find him?" she said, scooping up the delicate thing in her arms.

It hurt to see Percy like this. He looked much frailer than he did when he had left. She felt like if she pushed him just slightly over the edge, he would snap into a million little pieces.

Arthur looked down at his feet. "Percy came back to _steal_ from us," the man's voice was dripping with gloom. "The nerve of that bastard Malfoy – trying to get _my_ son to steal back his files from me! I was so ashamed of our son when I found out that he even tried to—"

"Arthur, stop it," Molly instructed, her voice cold. "I'm appalled. This is our _child_ ; the one that we thought was dead. I don't care if he tried to steal files, or if he tried to rob us blind, we thought he was _dead_!"

A furry of thoughts suddenly entered her mind. "What did you _tell_ him? What happened?"

Arthur was stuttering about, not able to produce one concise thought. "Well, I…I-I…you see…what happened was…it was… I didn't mean to…"

The woman softly tucked a loose curl behind Percy's ear. "Arthur, _please_."

The man's cheeks coloured in. "I…well; I-I caught him in his room."

Room? Percy's room was deconstructed into nothing more than just four wooden walls. _He had no room_.

Arthur's eyes were getting teary, which scared her. "I'm such a fool, Molly…I'm sorry."

Molly shook her head again, tears running down her eyes. "Arthur, please tell me what happened."

Arthur bit down his lower lip, "I'll collect my thoughts and we'll talk later. It's just…the whole situation was so incredibly overwhelming, Molly. He said some things that maybe he regretted, and I said a slew of things I know that I shouldn't have… things that I can't take back."

Molly bit down her lower lip, glancing back at her child; this child that had a leg injury that could've potentially killed him but still kept on trying to run away… at the expense of his life.

Molly glanced back at Percy and felt tears rush towards her eyes. "The important thing is that he's back home…and-and that he's _alive_."

"I'm sorry, Molly," Arthur repeated again. "I said some things—"

"We'll talk about this later," Molly cut him off. The man nodded his head and then disappeared.

She carefully shifted Percy from his side of the bed to her warmer side. He seemed cold and tired. Despite September looming close, it was cold outside today. Molly pulled the duvet across his body, and frowned when she noticed that he was visibly skinnier than he had been before he left. She felt like such a failure. Every pound of him that left his body was another part of him that was disintegrating, and she felt herself grow with shame.

She disappeared downstairs to make breakfast. She made eggs, toast, sausages, bacon and she even had enough time to make warm homemade seeded bread rolls. As she cooked, she found herself feeling a sense of security. Her family was whole again. They were still broken apart, but they were one step closer to being stitched back together.

Molly frowned when she looked at the clock and realised that Percy's handle was missing.

She'd thrown it away. His plate was gone. Everything of Percy had somehow disappeared. He had _nothing_ anymore. With that thought, she vowed to venture into the shops soon and buy him all kinds of things – new duvets for her bed, new wood to bring back his furniture, new books and tonnes and tonnes of sweeties.

She hummed as she set out breakfast and went to call the boys and Ginny down.

THERE was the usual ruckus about the table that made her roll her eyes and chuckle. Ron had already had a few bits of bacon. Against their mother's wishes, the twins were splitting apart their food. Fred was eating the crusts from the toast, strawberries and the yolks from the eggs. George was eating the rest of the bread, and only little amounts of the egg white. She placed an apple on George's plate. He snorted and pushed it away. Ginny was chewing on bits of sausage. Charlie and Bill were standing, and talking about _firewhiskey_ of all things! She gave them a hard look that told them that their chat was over. Bill and Charlie complied, and piled their plates high with eggs, sausages and toast.

It was nice to see Charlie eating today. She practically had to shove a bread roll down his throat yesterday because he refused to eat for days.

Molly smiled and joined them after some point. She chewed a boiled egg with some toast, thinking to herself that she might want to go on a diet soon enough and lose some of the podge that she had acquired with being pregnant six times. She knew that Arthur did not care whether or not she lost it, but it was getting a bit hard to move around with such an abundance of belly flab in the way.

As she was in her thoughts, she was surprised to find Percy standing by the door. She dropped her fork. Her heart was ailing her seeing him pressed up against the doorway like that. He looked rather ill. He was so pale that he was grey. He swayed as he walked, and looked like he was going to fall down at any moment.

A shell-shocked Bill went over to Percy and helped steady him.

" _Percy_!" Ginny called out excitedly, running towards him and hugging him tightly. "I missed you so much! I thought you weren't ever going to come back – not ever!"

Molly smiled, but her smile faltered when she noticed that her son did not respond much to the hug. In fact, he looked nauseous. Fred and George seemed to leave their chairs and tackle him almost immediately down with a happy embrace.

"Percy!" they called out in unison. "Percy's back!"

"Where did you go?" Fred suddenly announced.

George nodded his head. "Merlin, wherever you went, you gave Mum and Dad a fright! It was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life! They thought you were dead!"

Ron was looking up from his plate, but somehow returned back to his food. "Mum, these sausages look funny…" his eyes went back to Percy again, trying to appear as if he wasn't interested at all in Percy's return.

It made Molly want to laugh. Charlie seemed stunned, as he helped them the twins and Percy up again.

It was nice to see the excited chatter at the table again. It felt like things were going back to normal relatively quickly. As they ate, Molly couldn't help but love that things were somehow restoring themselves back to the normal balance it always was. Ron and Ginny were fighting on the last sausage. George was refusing to eat any form of fruit, and Charlie and Bill's Quidditch discussion was getting out of control. Somehow afterward, however, the table had gone to a standstill silence; an _uncomfortable_ one.

"So, you missed Percy, didn't you?" Molly gawked towards Fred and George, loud enough for him to hear.

Fred nodded his head nearly immediately. "Yeah, it was boring without him!"

George chewed on an egg white and said (with his mouth absolutely _full_ Molly wanted to add on), "Nobody else plays with us like Percy does! He's so fun to play around with, and the rest of you are so _boring_."

She glanced back at Percy, whom seemed to be looking away from the table. It made Molly feel terrible to see that her son, for some reason, still looked worn-out and frail. Arthur did say that the poor thing had only slept for a little while… Molly pushed a few things in front of him to eat, but he wouldn't touch a single thing off the breakfast plates.

Charlie had seen Molly's attempt at subtly persuading Percy to eat something, and had picked off a piece of toast from the plate to offer to him.

"I don't want to eat," Percy announced, his voice was incredibly strained. "Leave me alone."

"Percy, sweetie," this was breaking Molly's heart. "Eat something light. I can't imagine that you've been eating proper… it's been so long, honey, and look! You've lost so much weight in two weeks!"

Percy just shook his head. "I don't want to eat," he repeated, getting off the chair he'd been sitting on.

Molly watched him walk away and just noticed that the poor thing was limping! He could just about _barely_ walk. He must be in an incredible amount of pain…

"Percy, how is your leg?" Molly suddenly asked, her voice low and soft.

Percy then looked down at it for some time, but he didn't respond to her statement.

A FEW hours later on, Molly had gone to tuck away the laundry and heard the sound of vomiting. _What's going on? Who's sick?_ She asked herself, moving towards the kitchen with a great haste. In her mind, she was trying to remember a few spells to help her out. She normally used potions to quell any kind of illness, but if a child was vomiting, then potions were useless.

Her heart raced and she walked towards the kitchen to see Percy perched over the kitchen sink, violently throwing up the contents of his stomach.

She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Come on," Molly's voice was soft. "Let's take you to bed."

Percy practically collapsed the minute she took him to a bed. As she was covering him up with blankets, and placing a cold cloth on his forehead that was magically charmed to stay cold (he seemed to be sporting a high fever too), she noticed that the twins were standing beside her. They stared with big eyes, as Percy drifted off to sleep almost instantly.

Fred was the one to break the silence. "We were just playing around, and then Percy left to go to the sink to puke… we went to look for you but we couldn't find you!"

"We didn't do anything," George announced.

"Honest," they chimed together.

Molly placed a hand on Percy's shoulder, staring at him for some time. Seeing his chest move up and down was the most miraculous thing in the world. She felt like she was given another chance with her son, but the state that he was in now – she was half-frightened that he might be snatched away from her again. She didn't think she would be able to stand losing Percy twice.

"No, no," Molly said in a soft voice, hoping to be convincing. "Percy's just ill. Go play."

The twins didn't leave at all though. They stared at Percy for a while.

"Can we help?" they suddenly asked, voices high with need.

Molly shook her head. "No, no, boys," she paused just to think for a few moments. "Go help Bill. He was working on something important. Maybe he needs your help."

The two disappeared after that, and Molly felt relieved that they'd stopped asking questions.

When they were alone, Molly kept her attention focused on Percy.

She checked his temperature constantly, cringing at how high it seemed to be getting. She'd tried to do a few fever-reducing spells and pain-relieving spells but they did not seem to be eliminating any of her son's obvious discomforts. He continued to toss and turn in his sleep, his body quaking.

" _That's it, isn't it, Weasel_?" Percy reiterated in his sleep. " _You don't have an excuse for the things that happened to this child…do you?"_

Molly was surprised in the beginning, but then somehow remembered somewhere in her mind that a very bad fever caused by certain infections originating from forest doxies' biting fresh open wounds might cause the infected to recall and reiterate memories in their sleep. She remembered Arthur telling her about the encounter between him, Percy and Lucius Malfoy (the only person that would call them weasels). For once, she felt relieved that a small amount of knowledge from her healer friends had done her well. It made sense since a doxy could've been picking at Percy's wound and he wouldn't have known if he was consistently in pain from the wound.

" _Percy_ ," her child's voice had gone down a notch. She assumed this was Arthur speaking. " _He's lying to you. He's trying to manipulate you. I am your father…you_ have _to believe me."_

She pulled his curls from his eyes. He was sweating so profusely.

Then the voice that came out of Percy was soft, " _Where's my room_?"

Molly's heart started to race, as she remembered those empty walls. She didn't think she could've answered the poor child if he'd asked _her_. She could see tears suddenly erupting from his eyes. He kept on trembling… she remembered Arthur not being able to tell her about the exchange that happened between him, Percy and Lucius Malfoy.

What had Arthur done…?

Percy had stopped shaking, his body calm and still, " _I-I… I thought you were dead, Percival_."

Then he twisted, his body raking violently again. " _So, you got rid of all my things in_ what _? A two-day period since my supposed 'death'… tell me,_ father _, what exactly were you planning to do with the space that_ I _was taking up_?"

"Percy, no," Molly said in a soft whisper. "It—"

" _It_ …" Percy's body had gone still again. " _It isn't like that, son_."

"No, it isn't," Molly cried out in relief that Arthur hadn't said anything else. He was treading the waters carefully now, and had not yet lost his temper. "Sweetheart, they just wanted to make things better for me because I didn't know what to do without you…you're one of my children for Merlin's sake! All I ever—"

" _Oh no, you are mistaken_ ," Percy's voice was rigid, and so was his body. There was no trembling anymore. The sweat pouring off his body only seconds ago had somehow disappeared. " _I am_ not _your son_."

"But you are," Molly wrapped her arms around his frame. "I carried you in my stomach for nine months, love. You are my child, my son. I wanted you to be born."

" _Why did you do it_?" Percy called out, making Molly's heart clench – oh no, this would be the point at which Arthur would speak and she could tell that he had lost his temper. " _How dare you leave your mother, Percival? She's been in absolute hell ever since you've left. How dare you steal from me? How dare you tear this family apart for your own selfish reasons? And to think – this was over a few_ books _that you've lost_!"

"No, no, no," Molly called out to herself. Arthur didn't actually say _that_ , did he?

Percy's body was shaking again. It had suddenly lost so much control, " _I hate you, I hate you…_ I hate you!"

"Percy," she called out gently. She tried to shake him awake. She couldn't bear to hear anymore of this. This would probably go downhill from then on. "Percy, wake up! Percy, please!"

Percy continued to reiterate speech from the memory in a rather cold, demeaning voice, _"You think I'm pitiful enough to leave this family over a few books that have been taken from me...? I was fantasising about leaving this family for so long. It is you who made me resort to this. It's you who ignored me. It's you who made me look after the twins. You don't notice me. You don't believe me. You don't even like me. Please forgive me for thinking that I had a better chance of survival outside of the constraints of what you people have offered me!"_

Molly wanted to cry out by then. She ruined him. She treated Percy like he was an adult, and thought that it was a privilege but it ended up being his curse.

"Percy, please, wake up!" she shook him even when he was shaking. "Percival!"

Suddenly, Charlie and Bill entered the room in a rather alarmed haste; the twins following them.

She was the reason that her son was lying in bed with a fever that seemed to get worse by the minute, as he shook, sweating and in pain from a doxy infection and a terrible leg injury!

"Percy, please," she begged, not sure what she could to do wake him up.

Charlie was the first to speak, "Mum, let go."

She was so ashamed of how badly she had wronged him. She let out a scream, still continuing to shake his body until he rose from his sleep, and he was already shaking himself, foam escaping from his mouth…

"Mum, stop it," Bill tried to pull Percy away from her hands, but she daren't give it up. "Mum!"

"He won't wake up!" Molly said. " _MAKE HIM WAKE UP_!"

Now, she was trembling herself. He had stopped shaking and she could hear his laboured breathing, but for some reason, he would not arise from his memory-sleep trance and it was killing her inside. "Please wake him up. I don't want him to die. Please…"

She couldn't lose him…she couldn't…

"Mum, let go," Charlie pulled Percy's now limp body away from her grip. "Percy just had a seizure."

 _"NO!"_ Molly denied hotly, her shoulders shaking. If Percy had a seizure once, he could have it again. If there was a chance that he'd procure wizarding epilepsy, then this entire family would fall to pieces because wizarding epileptics got sent to wards, locked away from the rest of the ward until they were _cured_ because of how dangerous a seizure could be; they were practically fits of uncontrolled magic, be it dark or light.

"Mum—" Bill was cut off again.

 _"NO!"_ Molly repeated, her face red. There was a fleeting moment of silence. Pressed against Charlie's grasp was Percy, whom was sound asleep. "He's just ill—such a high fever—and he's so young—he can't have... he hadn't eaten... but he's so tired..."

She wished she could forget the look of pity Charlie gave her as he laid Percy down.

NINE-year-old Fred Weasley was playing around with one of Ginny's ribbons. She'd been looking for this one for days now, but she hadn't managed to grab a hold of it. Sure, she'd thrashed the whole house in search of it but she hadn't thought to look under Molly's cookbook, where Fred had hid it every night. He was wondering if all girls smelled like Ginny. He wondered if his dad ever tried to smell their mum. He'd heard a few creatures smelled each other before they got together. George snorted when he heard that. He said if that was true for the wizarding world, then Fred might need to take longer and more frequent baths.

The days were longer now. George was the sensitive, emotional one. He always knew exactly what to say when things were going wrong. A sad, seven-year-old Ron had been leaning on George for a fortnight. In the meantime, Fred tried to cheer Ginny up by making her look for her ribbons because if she was busy crying about her ribbons, she wasn't thinking about where what happened to Percy.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

* * *

"I still don't understand… how did he have a _seizure_?" the twins heard Molly reiterate as they were sitting by the healers. She'd been asking that question for days now.

One of the healers started to talk all kinds of drivel that Fred and George didn't understand. Their mum kept on nodding her head and flicked her gaze towards Percy. She turned to the twins, told them to behave and that she'd only be gone for a few minutes to go get their older brother something to eat.

Fred had asked Charlie a while ago what a seizure was, and if it was the same thing as a a convulsion, Charlie seemed surprised but had explained to them that Percy had had a _febrile convulsion_ , which meant that he had a seizure or a convulsion (they were the same thing) happen to him because his fever was so bad. Charlie said that doxies gnawed at Percy's leg injury and made him very ill as a result.

"This is all your fault," George muttered to Fred, his voice low and unhappy.

Fred was despondent about the fact that George hated him right now. Fred was the younger one by only a few seconds, but somehow, George was so much more mature for some reason. There were some things that Fred thought was hilarious that George believed was no 'laughing matter' but those times were very rare. Mostly, they agreed on _everything_. Tearing Percy's books was one of Fred's ideas. In fact, it took many moons to convince George to do it with him.

When Percy started saying that he hated them and he wished that they'd just go away, it really got to George. He wouldn't stop feeling sad that night.

In the morning, when Percy was missing, George blamed Fred…in fact; George blamed his twin for anything bad that ever happened to Percy. It was as if _George_ never lent a hand in _any_ of it! Fred wished that his happy George would come back. He missed having a twin that tried to get as close to him as possible instead of pushing him away over stupid things like _this_.

George repeated his statement again, "This is all your fault. It really is. You ruined everything."

"Georgie, stop it," Fred whispered towards his twin.

George looked back at Percy, whom was asleep in the hospital cot.

Percy had not had a convulsion since it first happened. Fred recalled that day clearly. He had been vomiting all afternoon and then their mum had tended to him, but somehow, he ended up having a _febrile convulsion_. Fred remembered doxies from the card game that George and him played (that George somehow always won). He read about doxy infections not being serious, and that Percy should be fine. It was his leg that people were worried about. It looked like they split him open like a walnut.

"How can I make this right?" Fred had given in, noticing the sad look on his twin's face.

George just shrugged. "You can't. It's all _ruined_ , and now, mum cries all the time."

His mum wouldn't stop crying these days. A few days ago, Percy's Hogwarts letter came into the mail, and he didn't seem to be happy about it like he was a few months ago. He didn't keep anything down and he looked very weak and pale. If Percy died, George would never forgive Fred.

Fred hated to admit that George might be right. He wished that the idea didn't come to him, but it was too late now. "I don't understand how you're like this…all sensitive."

"I am not sensitive," George huffed, shaking his head.

"Oh, yeah, you are," Fred insisted, rolling his eyes before adding on, "You're very _sensitive_! You get all sad and unhappy when bad things happen and _I_ _don't_. You also cry a lot. I never cry. When Percy went away, you wouldn't stop crying… it was so funny seeing your face botched up all the time!"

George threw a piercing glare towards his twin. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," Fred knew his twin too well. "You're just angry."

" _I hate you_!" George exclaimed, almost as if it would change the fact that Fred knew that it wasn't true at all.

"No, you don't," Fred repeated.

George's eyes suddenly filled with tears and he looked away. Suddenly, all Fred wanted his twin to do was to start yelling at him again because that wasn't painful. Seeing his twin cry about this made Fred's heart hurt bad, because he couldn't ease his twin's pain at all.

Molly walked in with a few sweet buns in her hands. "Oh, he hasn't woken up yet?"

George immediately grabbed one out of Molly's hand and sunk his teeth into it. Fred found it funny because he knew that despite it being well into the evening; George hadn't eaten a thing yet.

Molly shot George a cold look, shaking her head. "Those are not for you."

Fred tugged at his mum's robes like he did when he was younger. She leaned closer to him and heard Fred mentioning: _he hasn't eaten yet._ The woman nodded her head, sighed and muttered something about fixing George's eating habits one day before offering the rest of the sweet buns to George, whom had took them greedily into his hands. Fred snorted. If George could, he'd probably stuff all four sweet rolls down his throat at the same time.

"I'll go get more sweet buns for Percy," Molly announced, smiling to herself as George choked down another down his throat. "Eat slower, love, else we might have to admit you to the hospital too."

Fred laughed, and shook his head. He grabbed his twin by his elbow. "Georgie, listen to mum."

"Sod off," George muttered, which only earned a glare from his mum. His cheeks coloured in a dark colour in seconds, and he tried to hide it by bringing another sweet roll close to his face.

When their mum left, Percy had woken up from his long sleep. He didn't say anything for the first few minutes, and had only sat up and adjusted himself on the hospital cot. Bill and Charlie were taking care of Ron and Ginny back home (they refused to take care of him and his twin), and their father was buzzing away at work as per usual—in fact, _more_ than usual. Fred eavesdropped on a few conversations and heard that their father was working overtime just so they could pay for Percy's hospitalisation since it was very expensive to be in the hospital.

"Give me that," Fred suddenly said, trying to grab a sweet bun from his twin's hands.

"No!" George announced, hoarding the last roll for himself.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Fat arse," he commented, knowing that it would make his twin more likely to give something to him. George was so sensitive about his looks that it was kind of funny, considering that he thought that Fred was attractive (they were identical twins with practically the same height and weight?).

George shot an icy glare towards his twin. "If I'm a fat arse, so are you."

Fred rolled his eyes again. So today was one of the few days that George had common sense? It was a day where Fred actually wanted something from him?

Percy had been staring vacantly at them for a while before he huffed out in frustration, "Just split it apart for Merlin's sake! You two are embarrassingly thick and your bickering is giving me a headache."

Fred reached over and snatched the sweet bun from his twin, earning an icy glare from George.

"I'm going to starve to death because of you one day," George sighed deeply.

Fred rolled his eyes, as he chewed on the sweet roll. He didn't know how George could eat three of these and still want another. He knew that George had an impossible sugar tolerance, but he bet that even the hungriest hippogriff couldn't eat three of these. "Yeah, yeah; I'll believe it when I see it, Georgie."

"I hate you," George repeated for the millionth time that hour. He sat by himself; staring longingly over at the sweet bun that Fred was now chewing.

"Stop it," Percy huffed, shaking his head and looking into the window. "You two are acting childish."

"We _are_ children," Fred nodded his head. It wasn't as if Percy was that much older than them. He was a child too, and it was sort of funny considering how Percy acted like he was older than Bill half the time. "Maybe you should try being one too."

Percy shot a look towards them, raising an eyebrow. Fred then wondered what Percy was thinking in that particular moment, because his expression softened and he just looked away from them and fixated his gaze at a window instead.

"There he is, my handsome prince – all woken up," Molly cooed gently as she walked inside, carrying _many_ , _many_ sweet rolls in a bag. Fred had to snicker if she thought that somehow she could shove them into Percy's body without it rejected that amount of richness.

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "Mum, stop it."

Molly placed a hand on Percy's shoulder, staring at him for some time. "How is your leg? They said to me that they would've given you pain potions but potions are tricky with you considering your dittany allergy as dittanies are so tolerable to most people."

Percy rolled his eyes. "It's _fine_ ," he looked away from his mother for a few moments.

"I've bought you some sweet buns," Molly pulled out one from the bag and offered it to him.

The redhead stared over at the buns, and then back at the twins, whom seemed to be snickering. Hearing their mum saying _sweet buns_ gave them an interesting visual.

Percy raised an eyebrow. "I hate those with a passion," he called out bitterly before adding on, "I'd rather just starve to death."

Molly looked wounded for a few moments. It just dawned on Fred that their older brother did not care that he was hurting his mum like he usually did. Most times, he ate when Molly pushed anything towards him so that he did not worry her. These days, he did not seem to care at all. It was... actually _very_ childish. The last thought made Fred raise an eyebrow. Percy acting like a child was strange, even if he actually was no more than two years older than them.

"Well, what do you want then?" she tried to sound optimistic, like she did the first few times George declined an apple for breakfast (now, she just got annoyed about it).

Percy glanced down at his leg, and sighed deeply. "I want to be left alone."

"Sweetheart, you—"

" _I want to be left alone_!" Percy exclaimed, looking back at her with a cold expression.

"Oh… oh…alright then," Molly stammered, his voice low.

She was so unhappy. Molly turned to the twins, nodded her head, and they left together. Fred tossed a look towards George, whom was currently ignoring him. Molly didn't say anything.

Come nightfall George didn't crawl into Fred's bed late at night like he always did. He stayed in his own bed, even though he was sad and needed to be held. Fred sighed, as he watched George toss and turn. There was a certain thing to be said for the exhaustion. Their exhaustion was so overwhelming that they could not sleep well on that cold August night.

COMING back to the Burrow wasn't something that Percy had been looking forward to. Percy absolutely hated the hospital, but at least, it was better at being at ' _home'_.

His mum had bought him new school robes and clothes (they were too short and too big), and she'd taken him down to Diagon Alley to get his wand, and his new school books. He had been dreaming for this day in so long, but found it hard to muster up the anticipation that he had a while ago. He did continue to look after the twins even though Molly told him that he didn't have to (It was a hilarious thought! He surely did not believe it. If not Percy, then who _else_ was going to look after those hooligans?).

He didn't read anymore books for his own pleasure. Molly had bought him a book that was left untouched and flicked down a corner of his used-to-be bedroom. They were slowly building back his bedroom, but he did not know why they even bothered as Percy's spirit was crushed the minute he realised how empty that room was – two days after his supposed _death_! A few days ago, he saw his mum sneakily place his handle on the Weasley clock again. Did she think that he was stupid? Trying to make it seem like everyone missed him! What a load of absolute _bollocks_! She must've thought so lowly of him if she thought he'd be fooled. They would've known that he wasn't stupid if they had _noticed_ how much effort he had put in to expand his vocabulary and perfect his handwriting!

Percy kicked the edge of his new bed, and sat down on the floor. He would not give them a satisfaction that they did not deserve by sleeping in the _new_ bed. They thought by showering him with gifts that he would somehow forget that they had gotten over him so easily when he'd run off? _Pathetic_!

At least the Malfoy's didn't lie to him. They told him that he was worthless right in front of his face.

" _Mum's so incredibly upset with you. She's going to give your room away if you don't come back, and give away all your things! We're going to have someone else to_ replace _you_!" Percy remembered Bill's words, the ones that he had yelled out when he was running after Percy in the woods. At that time, Percy thought that Bill said such things only to get under his skin, but apparently, they were _truths_. They really did give away his room and all his things. It left Percy wondering late at night about the other part of Bill's statement. It was one that rang in his ears when it was one o'clock in the morning.

" _We're going to have someone else to_ replace _you!"_

But who? Who had they found to replace him?

LATE that night, Percy crawled into his mum and dad's room. He went to grab his father's wand from his bedside, realising he had forgotten his own in his room. He muttered a _Lumos_ under his breath. He had gotten better at spells since he'd come back. When his mum got him the new books he'd use at Hogwarts, he read them religiously in hopes of getting a head start on the mountain of work he knew would be waiting for him at Hogwarts. He knew that Charlie and Bill were both incredibly smart and successful, which left Percy wanting to outshine them. He would be better than his elder brothers, and he was surely going to be better than this stupid _replacement_ they had in mind.

He tried to look for files. He looked and looked, and did not find anything that could answer his questions. How well could his father hide these files? Percy continued to wonder as he searched. Did they want to replace him because he was a 'bore'?

 _I am not boring just because I'm not loud and obnoxious,_ he thought to himself, as he continued to rummage through the files. He did not even care about the amount of noise that he was making.

Somehow, out of the corner of his eyes, he found a pale-coloured file unlike the rest. _This must be it,_ Percy thought to himself. _Who could they possibly find to replace me?_

He opened up the file and felt his heart drop into his chest. The boy in the file was named Oliver Wood. He was somewhere around Percy's age – he was a bit older than the redhead by a few months. His hair was short and brown. He did, in fact, look athletic even in the photograph. It was mentioned in the description of the boy that he was interested in all things Quidditch. The boy was from Scotland and had been in an orphanage since he was very young. It was also mentioned in the small print that he had gotten his Hogwarts letter recently, and was hopefully due to attend the school this coming September. Percy's stomach sloshed angrily. A part of him didn't genuinely expect to find a file. A part of him needed it all to be some sort of nonsense he made up in his head. This was a confirmation of one of Percy's biggest fears.

"What are you doing?" it was Arthur's voice that had made Percy jolt from where he was standing.

Percy had dropped the pale-coloured file and also the wand. The file fell on top of the others in the pile on the desk. Arthur took his wand from Percy's hand, and tried to rub the sleep from his eye. Just as Percy turned to run off, Arthur grabbed him by his shoulder and propelled him backwards.

"We will talk about this," the man said in a stern voice.

Percy looked down at his feet, feeling incredibly uneasy.

Arthur stared down at his son. A frown rested upon his lips. He was tired and absolutely wrecked from work, and Percy knew that a part of it was to pay off his medical bills. "What are you looking for, Percival?"

Percy said nothing. What could he say?

Arthur's eyes were darkening slightly as he placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "What did you want? Are you stealing from me _again_? What have you taken? Show me."

"Nothing!" Percy exclaimed, waving his hands in the air.

Arthur moved to look over at the spread of files on the desk, obviously not believing a word that left Percy's lips. The man looked through the files, and sighed deeply. "You are staying in your room for the all of tomorrow until I return from home late that evening. You are not leaving your room. You think about what you've done and the consequences of stealing."

"I didn't steal anything!" Percy called out in exasperation, feeling his heart sink in his chest. His father was punishing him for being disobedient. He physically felt ill. The twins _never_ got punished, and here he was, his father disciplining him for looking through a few files.

Arthur seemed to think about this for a few moments, "And the consequences of lying."

"I'm not lying! I didn't steal anything," Percy begged him to reconsider. He had never felt so low in his life. First, he found out that his father really did actually get a replacement for him and now, his father was punishing him by making him stay in his room for all of tomorrow.

"Arthur, what's going on?" she said sleepily, before sitting up from her bed. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know what he's trying to steal, but he's at it again, Molly. I can't have him putting the whole family down in jeopardy just because he's smuggling Ministry files to a Death Eater!" Arthur called out vehemently.

Percy was shaking in his father's arms. He physically felt sick at the thought of getting into trouble and being disobedient. His whole life was revolved around sticking to the rules and being as little of a nuisance as possible to his own parents.

"What are you talking about?" Molly had flicked the lights on with her wand, and had noticed the frightened Percy beside the rather irritated looking Arthur. "What's he tried to take?"

Molly noticed the files on Arthur's desk; they were neatly stacked before and now, they were a mess. "Percival…" she glowered.

"Nothing!" Percy called out in fear, his throat hurting. "I didn't take anything! I didn't want to!"

Arthur shot an icy look towards Percy. "How dare you lie to your mum, Percival?" the way his father was looking at him made Percy feel like the man hated him. "Tell your mother that you are sorry."

Percy looked down at his feet. He didn't want to get anymore into trouble. "I'm sorry."

"I'm taking him to his room, and I'm letting him stay there for all of tomorrow as punishment for this. I just don't know what to do with him. He's disrupting my work, and getting me in all sorts of trouble! One day, we'll be living in a cardboard box because he can't keep his nose out of my files!" Arthur called out unhappily. He paused and then added on, "No books, Percival. No quills. No parchment."

Percy looked down at his feet, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"Come on," Arthur announced, grabbing Percy by his shoulders. Wait, wasn't his mum going to say anything? He looked back up at his mother, whom had gone back to sleep as if this didn't matter?

When Arthur charmed the door to lock and left, the redhead collapsed on his bed and screamed.

ARTHUR felt guilty. Of course, he felt guilty about punishing Percy, but the redhead had been unbearably disruptive these days. Percy didn't listen to a single word that Molly or him said. He didn't finish off his plates. He did exactly the opposite of what Bill, Charlie and Arthur told him to do. He was consistently telling them that he wanted to be alone, or screaming for whatever idiotic reason he'd seemed to find this time round. He had complete disregarded the effects of his child-like rebellion was on the rest of the family. That night had been one of the worst.

Before Percy had snuck into the room, he'd had a row with Ginny that ended up with the small girl crying and running to Molly, screaming _"I don't want Percy to be home anymore! He could go away forever! I don't care!"_

George still felt somewhat guilty from what Arthur could see, but Fred had completely lost all senses of guilt by now. There were multiple days where Charlie and Bill had been having rows with little Percy, rows bad enough that there were some times that Charlie had to hold Bill to keep him from being physically violent to his son. As the days passed, Percy's habits were wearing them the whole family down. After working from four in the morning to seven in the afternoon, Arthur was toil worn. Even lying on his bed, every limb in his body felt heavy and ached badly.

That night, the Weasley family clock dislodged Percy's handle.

Even the clock had had enough.


	12. Chapter 12

_this is a **flashback** scene (hence why it is in italics) and is shorter than the rest of the chapters. i tried to add more but it's a bit difficult. there's only so much i could write before i hit that wall where you write a few words, they sound wrong, you erase them, you write another few and... oh, well. it's a few thousand words short of the usual length. hopefully, it isn't that noticeable. _

* * *

Chapter Twelve

* * *

 _"Eat your food, Percival," Molly insisted. Percy had left the hospital a few hours ago. Arthur had paid only about a fifth of Percy's extensive medical bills, and would have a hard time paying off the rest. Molly sighed in exasperation. She thought that Percy wasn't eating properly because of how bad the hospital food was, but this was worse than she could ever imagine. All he did was play with his food, with his hands even! That wasn't like Percy at all to ruin food like that. His hands were making a mush out of the buttered broccoli she'd served him along with their roasted chicken. "Stop doing that right this instance!"_

 _Ginny snorted and wrapped her arms around her doll of Gwenog Jones. Molly knew she liked her two-year-old doll very much but Ginny had never insisted bringing that ratty old thing to the table before._

 _"Percy, even I don't play with my food like that anymore!" six-year-old Ginny took a mouthful of her own buttered broccoli to make a point, "See?"_

 _Percy's eyes were smouldering with an intense darkness as he stared back at Ginny. Molly had never seen such a look of contempt sprawling in her son's features before. She did not know what happened to Percy in those words, but she'd never seen him as cynical and callous as he was right then. "Must you bring that wretched doll to the dinner table?"_

 _"Must you bring your charming attitude to the dinner table?" Bill responded, eyes on Percy's face._

 _Percy only offered a smile that Molly couldn't read (and she wasn't even sure if she even wanted to at this point). He walked over towards the kitchen and cleaned his hands, which were covered with bits of broccoli. "I don't see what's so fascinating about that ruddy thing..." he said, referring to the doll before he then added on, "Do you want to share, Gin?"_

 _"No," Ginny said, shaking her head adamantly. "Gwenog is mine and you don't even like Quidditch."_

 _Percy just stared down at the running water from the tap before he cleaned his hands with a tissue._

 _"Share with Percy, Ginevra," Molly insisted. She didn't know how to react. She just didn't know how to deny Percy something knowing that a while ago, she thought that he was dead._

 _"No," Ginny repeated, burying her head into the doll. "Mine."_

 _Percy just raised an eyebrow. "We'll see about that," was all he said, before he grabbed one of Bill's bread rolls, mostly to irritate Bill considering the fact that he hadn't touched a thing off his own plate. He took a mouthful of it, and stared back at an annoyed Bill. "What is it?"_

 _Bill raised an eyebrow, "You're a right arse for an eleven-year-old, aren't you, Percy?"_

 _"Bill!" Molly called out, obviously exasperated._

 _Bill didn't seem effected by this at all. "Apologise to Ginny for one—and I don't know who gave you the bloody right to say all that bollocks to my friends yesterday. We were visiting you in the ruddy hospital and instead of being grateful; you acted like a right arse about it. Throwing the book Lauren gave you as a present and whining about how much your bloody head hurts. If the mum wasn't there, I would've snapped your bloody arm and made you think about what you've done."_

 _Molly's cheeks coloured in. "That was a very rude thing to do, Percival. Lauren was just being nice. She didn't know what kind of books you liked."_

 _Percy stared at Molly with a cold expression, and said nothing._

 _"Mum," Bill gave her a look. "Just let me give him a good whack and he'll straighten out."_

 _"William," Molly was not happy about hearing this, not one bit. "You are not laying a hand on your brother, is that understood? Percy was just upset. He overreacted because he was upset, understand? He's been in the hospital for days, and he's been very tired. He says he's been having all these headaches too!"_

 _Bill looked over at Percy with a hardened expression. "I have a bloody headache just looking at him."_

 _"PERCY, I hate you!" Ginny exclaimed, trying to shove Percy out of her room. Her eyes were bubbling with tears, and she had her arms wrapped around a little Holyhead Harpies doll that was now missing an eye and a leg. "I take it back! I didn't miss you! You could go away and I won't care! I won't care! You—you're so horrible. Horrible! MUM! Mum, Percy broke Gwenog! He broke her and now, she can't walk!"_

 _Ginny had her arms wrapped around her doll, which was now severely disfigured thanks to Percy clawing it out with his sharp nails._

 _Molly poked her head into Ginny's small yet very feminine room. It was very obvious that mum had gone all out when it came to the only girl that she had. The curtains were a cerise satin that let most of the light outside in. Her walls were coloured into a shade of salmon pink that really went with the white oak wood that made her furniture and her bed. Most of the bed was covered with an endless amount of toys, mostly as gifts from relatives that spoiled Ginny senseless for being not only the (hopefully) last child, but the only girl Molly had. Sitting on the floor, looking relatively unashamed of himself was her eleven-year-old son, whom was glaring at Ginny as if she'd committed some kind of a crime._

 _Ginny wrapped her arms around Molly's leg, burying her small head into her mother's leg. "Look at what he did to her!" she thrust the toy into Molly's hands._

 _"Percy, did you do this?" Molly said, noticing what a poor state the toy was at._

 _"He did!" Ginny exclaimed, grabbing the doll from Molly's hands. "I saw him! He did it!"_

 _Percy slowly nodded his head, confessing to his crime. He opened his hand where he was holding a large chocolate brown button, which used to be Gwenog's eye. Almost instantly did Ginny swipe the button from his hand and then pounced on top of her brother._

 _"You broke her!" Ginny jammed the fluffy doll into Percy's face._

 _He tossed it aside, and Ginny immediately grabbed fistfuls of his wine red curls._

 _"Ginny, get off him!" Molly looked rather confused on what to do. She pulled Ginny off Percy, which took a lot of effort seeing as Ginny didn't want to let go of his hair._

 _"GIVE ME BACK GWENOG!" Ginny exclaimed, kicking her small legs into Percy's abdomen._

 _Percy grabbed the doll again and as if to make a point, tore off the other brown button from the toy's eye. This resulted into a high-pitched cry eliciting from Ginny's mouth, as tears burned down the six-year-old girl's eyes. "Percy, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" tearing the button was apparently the last straw, and Ginny had surged towards Percy, breaking free from her mother's grasp._

 _Ginny and Percy rolled across their room. Ginny's hands in his hair and Percy's hands on the ground._

 _"Get off me!" Percy exclaimed, trying to shove Ginny on him but she had a foot nestled into his abdomen to steady her. "Get off... you're-you're not particularly light!"_

 _"You're not particularly light," Ginny mocked, sticking out her tongue._

 _"OH, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!" Charlie called out, standing by the doorway. He walked down towards them, grabbing Percy by the collar of his robes and pulling him up from the ground. Ginny fell to the ground with an_ oof _. An icy expression shot at Percy decorated her delicate features. "Mum, just tell him off! Tell him that he's being a right arse and that he shouldn't have broken Ginny's dolls! He wouldn't have gotten away with it before and he shouldn't get away with it now!"_

 _Molly stared at him with big eyes, and said nothing._

 _"He broke Gwenog," Ginny insisted, taking the doll into her small hands. "Look!"_

 _"Percy's sorry, isn't he?" Molly said, taking Percy from Charlie's grip and running her hand through his unkempt curls. "You're sorry, aren't you, Percy?"_

 _Percy sighed deeply and slowly nodded his head._

 _"He's sorry," Molly insisted, looking back at Charlie, whom just shook his head as he leaned down to Ginny's eye-level, grabbing the broken doll from her hands. "Charlie, he just got out of the hospital... what do you want me to do?"_

 _Charlie just gave his mother an incredulous look before glancing back at Ginny. "Come on. I've got a few Galleons. I'll get you an ice-cream from Diagon Alley, alright?"_

 _Ginny slowly nodded his head. She passed Percy, glaring at him coldly. Percy's face remained stoic. He picked up the doll with some kind of a chaotic glee sprawling across his face, and a smirk following._

 _"Mine now," Percy decided, grabbing the other two buttons, the legs and then followed Charlie. "I want ice-cream."_

 _"You're not getting any, you little rut," Charlie called out unhappily._

 _Percy's plea made Molly's heart twinge, knowing he hadn't eaten anything but half a bread roll that day. "Charlie, please just take him," Molly explained, placing a hand on Percy's shoulder. "He's just tired...he's come out of the hospital. You know Percy's a good boy, you know he's such a sweetheart..." she pressed her lips against Percy's forehead._

 _Charlie sighed deeply. "He broke your china. He ruined Ginny's doll. He stole Ron's Chudley Cannon's badge. He hid my bloody books for no real reason. I've no idea where or how he got to Bill's earring, but Bill's been looking everywhere for it and he can't find it! And you want to give him_ ice-cream? _He should be getting a proper beating is what he's supposed to be getting—and if Bill sees him, he'll give him just that."_

 _"He will do no such thing," Molly decided, ignoring everything else that Charlie said. She ran her hand through Percy's untidy curls, and then said, "Bill looks awful with that thing. I don't know why he'd be looking for it."_

 _"Mum, don't encourage him," Charlie's eyes were on Percy this time. A disappointed look on his face. "Apologise to Ginny."_

 _Ginny moved towards Percy now, with a cold expression on her face. "You killed my Gwenog!"_

 _"And I'd do it again," Percy mumbled, as he let his hand run through the dissected doll, which looked rather appalling right about now. The smile that Percy gave was reminiscent of Lucius Malfoy's smile. It really irked Charlie to see Percy so callous. "It's just a bunch of strings tied up together. I don't see why it's so important."_

 _"You could say the same thing about your books," Bill said in a hollow tone of voice, standing beside the doorway with a hardened expression on his face. In truth, Molly would never admit it to Bill, but he looked odd without the earring—almost as if a part of him was missing. "Couldn't you, Perce?"_

 _Percy's entire face had gone red. "No!" he exclaimed, taking one of the battered doll's arms and tearing it to shreds. "You're lying to me. You're lying!"_

 _With that, Percy ran out of the room with whatever was left of the doll._

 _Standing by the doorway, Bill only offered a weak smile towards Ginny before he said, "It was an old doll anyway. I'm sure if you're a very good girl this week, Dad would end up buying you a new doll."_

 _Molly knew fully well that they wouldn't be able to afford Ginny a new doll for a while. Every bit of money they had now they were using to pay for Percy's medical bills. Arthur would know, since he'd spent the last few days doing nothing but sleeping, eating and going to the office. He didn't even have any excitement towards any new muggle products he'd have found recently because of his extreme weariness._

 _Ginny's bright smile made her feel worthless for a while, but what could she do? Molly couldn't go look for Percy and tell her that he had to apologise a day after he'd left that ruddy hospital._

 _She couldn't look at those blue eyes and demand that he apologise to Ginny._

 _He was a good boy, anyway, Molly insisted to herself. He might have stolen before but he didn't mean to. He might have broken Ginny's toy and stolen Bill's earring and Ron's badges, but those weren't important things, right? They were meaningless compared to having him back home, safe and away from danger. It had to be that way. It just had to be._

 _That night, Molly found herself walking to Percy's room. She was surprised to find him sitting on his bed, with that doll in his hands—or whatever was left of it. She didn't think that she could tell that it was a doll if she hadn't seen Percy dismember the thing in front of her eyes._

 _Percy looked up at her with those soft blue eyes, and then he'd said, "Mum, I want to be alone."_

 _It was a soft plea and she just felt dreadful. Molly couldn't just tear the doll away from his hands. She didn't think she'd be able to do it with what she knew about him recently. It wasn't exactly broken beyond repair. A few stitches and it would be fixed. Ginny wouldn't have to wait for a new one._

 _"Can I have the doll, Percy?" Molly asked._

 _Percy shook his head and gripped tighter around the body. "It's mine now."_

 _Molly sat down on his bed. He had such an awful, springy bed. It was the only thing they could somehow bring to his room after the debacle that happened before. "Come on, you don't want Ginny to be upset now, do you?"_

 _Percy's eyes were on the door. "I don't care," he said before adding on, "It's mine now. You can't take it away from me." _

_"Why do you want Ginny's doll so badly?" she asked, staring at him with wide eyes. It just made no sense to her why Percy was so infatuated with the doll. It wasn't like him at all. He might as well be a stranger, wearing Percy's body. His skin was just as rubbery, and his eyes were vacant. They held no emotion that she associated with Percy from before. There was that whisper of contempt in his eyes. She could remember the memory he'd reiterated when he'd had that Merlin-awful seizure. A seizure that would happen to him only once hopefully and she wouldn't have to deal with the idea that Percy might be punished for being ill._

 _"It's mine now," was all that Percy said, finger on the doll body._

 _"You've made Ginny very upset," Molly tried to reason with him._

 _Percy looked back at her. His expression was unreadable. "Let her be upset. I hate her."_

 _"Percy," Molly's voice was teetering with distress. Why did Percy insist on ruining Ginny's doll? Why did he insist on taking Ron's badge? Why did he insist on doing these things? What was the point of all this? Because Molly didn't know. "You don't mean that. Ginny's your sister. Give her back her doll."_

 _Percy threw the doll towards his mum's lap and stood up. Molly hoped that now, Percy would let her know what he was thinking when he'd done all those things._

 _Under normal circumstances, they would be unacceptable. Under normal circumstances, she'd have thought of a suitable punishment for this. Under normal circumstances, Percy wouldn't even be doing this because this kind of childish behaviour was usually beneath her son. So, what had changed?_

 _He opened his mouth and instead of an apology, said, "It's an ugly doll anyway."_


	13. Chapter 13

_alright. confession time. there's a lot of things in here that i had **not ** planned on writing before. it was sort of eerily spontaneous. _

_another thing i wanted to note was that i hope that this doesn't seem highly dissociated in any format. i do know i tend to weave through and not notice small grammar and spelling errors and what not. there's about... well, you know, i've written 25 chapters, then i went back to **chapter 12** , tweaked it around so that you could see the masterpiece of a chapter that i've created last time where Percy was a lot more of an arsehole, and started entirely a new fresh chapter for **chapter 15,** i'm continuing with the new plotline. that makes about 45,000+ words unusable right about now because there was something else that i wanted to post that would make Arthur instantly unlikable. i'm debating whether or not to post it, but i've stumbled upon a newer, fresher idea i could use that wouldn't make Arthur possibly out-of-character or too violent. actually, the fresher idea includes him being more likable instead of not. i still want to end up with **the same conclusion**. either way, **all warnings that were posted on previous chapters stand still**. they are still applicable. just later on that i'd originally planned. all those warnings were supposedly applicable from **15 and onwards** , but not anymore. i'll let you know when we do dive into them..._

 _hopefully, this isn't too choppy. problem is i can't remember what i've posted, what i've written and planned to post, what i've re-written and what i have not. i can't keep on re-reading the chapters i've put up and not either. this was from the original draft, and nothing " new" yet. i should count my lucky stars that i've been formatting and re-formatting and so far, at least, i think it all flows together instead of being an absolute mess of a thing. i've re-written this story about two different times and some chapters multiple times. there are still some scenes that i am not pleased with (the main one being the scene where Fred and George are in the hospital with Percy, though it was one of my favourite scenes to write. another one was Percy's first seizure scene. i felt like it didn't impact as much as i'd hoped for.) _

_i did not mention this before but **this whole story is very POV-based and thus, biased**. Percy's point of view is biased, so is Molly's, so is Arthur's and so on and so forth. that's why in Percy's point of view, he'd said  he'd never been in trouble and that the twins never get in trouble. take that with a pinch of salt. every person is justifying their own actions, e.g. Fred trying to make himself a victim in his point of view because he's justifying his own actions, Penelope calling Percy idiotic, and later on, Oliver doing anything to take the piss out of Percy. i just try to add in as many points of view as i can to prevent it from being too biased around Percy's end, and another reason for last chapter. i **don't** want to make it seem like Percy is entirely angelic and that everyone around him is fair or justifiable to him or don't care about him as he tends to think. though i felt like i've subtly proved that, i wanted something a little bit more exaggerated to drive my point back home._

 _ **Phoenixx Rising** : maybe i'll refrain from using that chapter. it's seriously potent. i don't know what to think about it. i keep on re-reading it and it's the kind of potent that i **want** to post but should deliberate, hence the "newer, fresher" idea. i don't want to make Arthur completely and utterly unlikable. or seriously abusive for no reason. i think every single fanfic i've read where Arthur ended up being abusive made him look **wayyy** too OOC for it to be potent. maybe i'll instead, use it to redeem him instead. i think i'd like that better. poor Arthur. i've made him an arsehole in this story for no real reason. i love how  team Percy you are when it comes to this fanfic. it's so cute._

 _ **WolfSpirit1992:** **"** **Poor Percy. Man, how much more anguish can this boy take? At the same time, I wonder what or who can put him back together..."** i chuckled because i remembered the  very, very first original draft of this fanfic involved him being successful in running away, then having a relationship with Oliver, then somehow ended up going absolutely batshit insane and ended up marrying Ginny (?) after obliviating his entire family. i had a friend read the ending and she thought it was spectacular but apparently, i refuse to believe it. it's not a question of how much anguish i could throw at him, more of a question of how i can do this without this looking oddly like a retell of Oedipus Rex or the classic gothic novel. as for **what or who** will put him back together, i'd be interested in finding out myself! i think i'm to the point where the characters write themselves. it's really brilliant._

 _ **Spirits in the Sky:** i honestly don't know how much of Penelope we'll see. we'll see her sometimes. i honestly plan on putting more of her all the time, but she sort of just flitters by here and there._

 _ **Chemical Violets** : i had to laugh at the silence defiance bit. yes, he is being a little arse, isn't he? he'll get better as time goes. i think. i do have a lot planned for him... anyways, fingers crossed!_

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

It was eight in the evening, and Percy had spent his afternoon trying to walk. The wound was healing better, but it was still painful to walk. The healers said he may always have a limp. It was frightening being locked in a room. He hated the thought of him being disobedient enough that they had to do this. The twins spent all their life ridiculing him, and _he_ was the one that was being punished. He didn't even steal anything! He had just been indulging his curiosity and now, here he was – locked in this awful room that had _nothing_.

That morning, Arthur had taken away the book that laid in the corner, Percy's parchment, ink and quills.

Percy heard the sound of the door snapping open and his mum standing there with a soft expression on her face. She was holding a tray of food for him, and he just refused to look at her.

 _Traitor_! Siding with his father when she didn't even _know_ what happened!

"Here you go," Molly said as she sat down and pushed the tray to him. He looked down to see that despite the fact that he was being punished, his mum had decided to load his plate. He didn't even know where it began or ended as it was so full of potatoes, roast beef, Yorkshire puds, and vegetables. She'd even cut him a slice of cake that probably weighed more than six-year-old Ginny did.

Percy instinctively pushed it away, even though he normally would eat his meals – just not as much as he used to eat in the same circumstances.

Molly frowned and placed a hand on his knee. "Percy, look at me."

"Go away," Percy called out instinctively.

He had made a fool out of himself by trying to escape his own family, and now, he was back home where he was being punished for knowing that they wanted to replace him! What _nonsense_!

She wrapped his arm around him rather softly, placing a hand on his knee. He could see the disappointment in her eyes. "Percival, what did you try to take? You know that your father could end up in Azkaban if those files go missing. They're _that_ important… you don't want your father to end up in Azkaban over a few missing files now, do you?"

Percy turned his body away from his mum. "I didn't take anything."

"Don't lie to me, Percival," Molly demanded, pushing the tray towards him.

He wanted to spit in that tray in front of his mother just so that she could be appalled at his behaviour as Percy was already in big trouble! Why not add more to it?

In that moment, Arthur also walked into the room. He looked absolutely shattered from the long day at work. Arthur stared down at his son with a flat expression on his face. He sighed, as he opened up his briefcase and offered Percy his book, parchment, quills and ink back. The redhead didn't feel happy. He felt ashamed, almost as if his things did not belong to him anymore.

"Percival, come on now," the man commented, staring down at his son's full plate. "Eat your dinner."

Arthur laughed, his voice lighter as he also added on, "It's no use starving yourself for breaking a few rules. You know your mum and I did this so that you could learn your lesson is all! We still love you very much, and want you to be happy—"

Percy jumped up from where he sat, shooting daggers over at his father. " _Love_ me?" he repeated maliciously.

"You were going to replace me!" Percy exclaimed, stomping onto the ground like an irritated child that wouldn't get his way. "Bill told me! Bill told me! _Bill told me_! I saw him! I saw all about my substitute! I know, I know, I know – you're lying to me! You're _lying_ and I hate you, I hate you, _I hate you_!"

Molly looked discombobulated. She obviously didn't look like she knew what he was going on about.

Arthur placed his hands on Percy's shoulders.

"Is that what you were looking for?" Arthur asked softly.

Percy nodded his head. His eyes were hard.

"No, no, it's not like that at all Percival," Arthur said, shaking his head as he chuckled. "Oliver was not supposed to be a replacement, no. I…he was just someone I was looking into is all. A friend mentioned the orphanage to me and I was only considering the idea. I did tell it to Bill, but I didn't think that he'd ever tell you. I needed some advice. That file was the only file I ever brought home and I was going to bring it back when we got you back. I didn't even meet with Oliver. We arranged a meeting, but I cancelled it recently, because we don't need him. We have you after all. What would we need him for?"

 _Yes, you're right. I was going to replace you shortly after I thought you were dead_ was all that Percy could hear from the speech that Arthur had just given now.

"Arthur!" Molly sounded appalled.

The man looked back at his wife, and flushed deeply. His hands were still on Percy's shoulder. "It's nothing important really. It's just—you seemed so sad when you thought that Percy died that when the idea was mentioned to me previously, it seemed like a viable option. I wasn't intending on replacing Percy. It wasn't supposed to be that way, it's just—"

Percy's heart was beating quickly, knowing that he was right made him feel queasy. "You punished me for knowing that I am going to be replaced! I hate you! I hate all of you!"

He couldn't believe that his parents would use his biggest fear against him. He hated the thought of getting into trouble. He used to not be able to sleep at the thought of one day, disrespecting his parents and landing himself into a big mess of trouble. It was one of the reasons he had not attempted to run away before. Now, he had been punished and nobody cared. Everyone expected him to be okay with it, but he wasn't and it _hurt_.

Percy turned around to leave, but Arthur had caught him rather easily and pulled him back. Arthur placed his arms around Percy's frame and pulled him into a tight embrace. The man slowly ran his fingers through his son's wine red curls before saying, "I'm sorry."

The redhead dissolved into his father's embrace. He wanted to forgive him and at the same time, he didn't. Arthur let go of the son and pulled Percy's chin up so that he'd look up at him.

"Listen to me," Arthur said in a soft voice. "I mean what I said. Oliver was _not_ meant to be a replacement. He just seemed like a viable option at that time… we were shocked, Percival. You were our son and were likely to be dead, so much so that we thought that you were dead. You left a gap in our hearts that I felt like we had to bring someone else to fill it, Percival. That's how much you mean to me, to your mother…"

Percy's heart started to pound into his chest and he felt tears threatening to spill.

Arthur turned to hugging him again, running his hand down Percy's back with a touch so light and soft that it made the younger boy melt. "You believe me, don't you?"

Percy sniffed, not allowing himself to cry and nodded his head.

"Eat your dinner, Percival," the man instructed. "And go to bed. You've a long day tomorrow! The first day of Hogwarts, aren't you excited?"

Percy slowly nodded his head.

Percy sat down by his bed and stared down at the huge plate. He saw a ghost of a smile appear on Arthur's face. The eleven-year-old started off with the cake, as per usual. He was not very interested in vegetables, and had never been. For the first time in a very long time, he had let himself enjoy what he was eating. He could look back at his room and felt like it was _his_ and nobody else's. After he ate and finished every scrap and bit on his plate (he had been hungry after not eating for the rest of the day), he turned to pick out his robes for tomorrow and had assembled his things in a very concise manner. He fell asleep at a reasonable time and woke up at a reasonable time.

It was the day that he was going to Hogwarts, and he actually found himself feeling _excited_ for it too!

MOLLY Weasley was _not_ happy. When Percy starting going on about being replaced, she had no idea what he was talking about. When Arthur admitted that he did, she felt herself bubble with anger. Did Arthur really plan this? Did he plan to bring in another child to take in Percy's place? She was _fuming_. She did not say anything when Percy and Arthur had their exchange. The man managed to somehow quell Percy's fears in a few statements and somehow, her young child seemed to go back to how he used to be before he ran off. He bounced down and started to eat his dinner, fanatical about having to go down to King's Cross the next morning (as she discovered when she went in his room that morn). The poor thing even finished his plate to appease her, but that did nothing to quell Molly's rage towards her husband.

She had been cleaning dishes and thinking to herself about it. She felt like Arthur had just conned Percy into thinking that it was not a big matter, but it was.

Molly was beside herself. She had agreed with Arthur when she woke up that night and saw that Percy was in their room. She agreed to punish that child, even though he looked obviously terrified of it. The whole household knew how much Percy hated the thought of getting into trouble and yet she just let her husband punish him without hearing a quiver or a moan from Percy. She _never_ punished any of her children before – yet she agreed to punishing Percy, a few days after he left the bloody hospital for an injury that could've killed him! What kind of a mother would dare to do that?

Fine. Percy had been making the whole house absolutely miserable ever since he'd come back but still!

It was a blessing that their son was alive, and all she did was laugh at it somehow. It was all _they_ did. Her and Arthur should be cherishing and spoiling him rotten to make him feel loved, and yet they did none of that. It had gotten to Molly in ways she couldn't even explain… she nearly felt like she abused this child by taking away so much of his life. Percy thought it was an _obligation_ for him to watch the twins now, even though she had told him not to several times now. She even demanded that he do something else, but he refused.

All he did was look up at her face and ask her: _if not I, then who is going to take care of them?_

Percy was settling for far less than he deserved. All Arthur did was throw around a few words, and whilst Molly knew that he meant them, it didn't change the fact that they were just _words_. They didn't change the fact that Arthur contemplating replacing Percy was ludicrous and unforgiveable! Molly couldn't describe how sick she felt when she heard Percy scream out: _you punished me for knowing I am going to be replaced I hate you! I hate all of you!_

Somehow, she remembered the seizure that sent him to the hospital, and the memories that he had been reiterating. She felt herself grow grim with every thought that entered her mind. There was no justification for her actions, or her husband's actions. They had wronged their son multiple times now. The thoughts weighed heavy in her mind that night. They didn't leave her alone as she made breakfast that morning. Arthur gave her a kiss on the cheek, when she was sautéing mushrooms and she only looked back at him with a dark expression on her face as she ordered, "You don't get to go to work today."

Arthur looked back at his wife, confused. "Molly, I—"

"Send in a notice," Molly suddenly said. "Owl them and tell them that you are ill. We are talking about what happened last night, and I will not wait until you come back from work to do it. We will talk about it _now_."

The man seemed to pale and nodded his head before he left the kitchen. He reappeared only a few moments after, and by then, Molly had set up the breakfast table like she did every morning. Today, she'd put in more effort than usual – eggs, bread rolls (unfortunately not homemade ones), crumpets, jam and butter, the fruit basket, sausages, bacon, sautéed mushrooms, onions, and broccoli, as well as boxes of cereal and milk.

Arthur seemed impressed by the spread and had chuckled at the sheer volume of food. It was amazing how she found a space for it all on the table. "Molly, I—"

"When were you going to tell me about the fact that you were planning on replacing Percival?" she asked in a cold and calculating manner.

Arthur's cheeks coloured in. "The boy I was looking into was not meant to be a replacement."

Molly raised an eyebrow. It surely _sounded_ like a replacement.

"Percy's already forgotten all about this, Molly," Arthur immediately stated, trying to win over the argument before it even began. "This morning, I even checked his room. He seemed to be happily re-checking the things he's packed for King's Cross. He seems to be back to his normal self, so why is this such an issue?"

" _Why is it such an issue_?" Molly repeated acerbically. Her voice rose up an octave, and she tried to keep it down as not to wake up the others. "Arthur, I agreed to punish him for this! Everyone knows how frightened Percy is about getting into trouble, and yet, I let you punish him without another thought to it. This is the same child that just came home from the _hospital_ a few days ago!"

"We are too ungrateful," she said, tears filling her eyes. "The child that I thought was dead isn't dead at all and what did I do with this knowledge? I chuck it straight out of the window. I don't want t any of our children to get less than what they deserve. Percy deserves _more_ than this. If Percy running away taught me anything, it's just that! Of course, what have _I_ done with that knowledge, Arthur? What have _we_ done? We sat here when we didn't know where he was, thinking to ourselves that we'd do better if he was actually here; that things would change for the better. We haven't implemented one bit of that change and you're asking me _why it's an issue_!"

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. A moment of silence had filled the room, and she found herself standing up from where she was sitting and turning to find a spot juice for her growing children.

He watched her fill their glasses with orange juice and said nothing at all.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, his voice soft. "Molly, I can't take back what I've done and I know this. You're right. We are giving him far less than he deserves. Things will change, and I swear on it. It's just he's so _difficult_ these days... his misbehaviour is too much to bear most days. Your other children agree."

She huffed, without saying much of anything. She obviously didn't.

Molly went upstairs to call her children down for breakfast each individually. She was half-glad that Percy's room was the last in the corridor, as she wanted to talk to him a little before he left. As she slipped inside, she was surprised to find Percy bespectacled and standing by the trunk that he was using to put his books in. She was even more surprised to find that the book that she had bought him so long ago seemed to be sitting on top of his trunk and its spine seemed to be cracked. Last night, it was very obvious that he hadn't even _touched_ the book!

Molly wrapped her arms around his frame. "Do you like the book? Where are you at, love?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in and then he said, "I…er, well, I finished it. It was a good book."

Molly blinked a few times. When on earth did he find the time to read the whole thing? She was going to ask him if he'd slept but had noticed that the dark circles that were under his eyes the past few days had miraculously vanished. He _had_ slept well.

"Those are nice glasses," Molly said, staring over at his face. "Where did you get them?"

Percy's cheeks remained flushed, as he continued to say, "Well, er, I…father gave them to me."

Molly nodded her head. She knew Percy did not see as clearly as he should, so this kind gesture really warmed her heart. He had closed his trunk, and walked downstairs with her. Somehow, even with his very obvious limp, he was graceful in his movements.

"Has father not gone into work?" Percy asked the minute that they walked into the kitchen.

Molly shook her head, and rubbed his shoulder. "No, no, he didn't, darling," he raised an eyebrow at this. Just before he'd ask, she added on, "It's not important as to why. Come here, and just sit with us."

Percy nodded his head, and sat beside his father.

The first thing he reached for was a crumpet, which made Molly raise an eyebrow. Percy didn't really like crumpets all that much. He didn't mind them, but they surely wouldn't be a first breakfast choice. A few minutes later, she found Arthur pulling his son against the counter and them sticking that crumpet in one of those muggle _toast-erz_. Nobody in the family liked toasted crumpets, or used that strange _toast-erz_ to make anything at all. Percy seemed to like it upon first bite, and had spread some jam on top. _Apricot_ jam.

This was strange as Percy didn't _like_ apricots!

Arthur didn't seem to find anything suspicious, and perhaps, Molly had been reading too much into it.

Percy ate two toasted crumpets that he spread with jam, and then just spent the next hour watching his brother eat whilst he slowly chewed on an apple. She wasn't happy with the amount that her redheaded son was eating. It seemed so minimal.

"Nice glasses," Fred had commented after chewing on a bit of an egg yolk. _Oh boy, here comes the row..._

Percy rolled his eyes, as he picked off some of the white flesh of the apple he was chewing. "Do you want me to take them off? I must say that _you_ looked better when they were off."

Fred's cheeks were red and George laughed.

"Why are you laughing about, dumb-dumb?" Fred announced coldly. "You look exactly the way I do!"

"I don't," George huffed, shaking his head. "I'm much better looking."

"Yes, you do!"

Percy seemed to be uninterested in their bickering, and seemed to look back at his plate every now and then. Molly kept her eyes on her middle son at all times and felt insanely worried. She hated that he was going into Hogwarts today; it was the same day that his personality seemed to flip one-eighty degrees. She didn't want to also admit to Arthur that yesterday had done him a bit of good, and he was back to being his perfect, pristine self overnight with no real explanation.

After breakfast, she and Arthur went to help him with his trunk. She made sure that he didn't forget anything, and Arthur tried not to mess up Percy's perfectly organised trunk. When they were sure that he had everything; that was when they had decided to leave.

When they were waiting for the train with the Weasley clan, she hadn't missed the look that Percy was shooting towards her. The twins were getting very annoying. Ginny and Ron were quite docile today apart from asking them why Arthur hadn't gone into work. He made up a nice excuse for it as well. Bill and Charlie were fused at the hip, of course. Bill continued to talk to Charlie about something related to Gringott's (Bill was starting work next Monday and would hopefully be too exhausted to talk about it!). There wasn't a lot of fighting today, which was nice. The past few days they'd been up to the walls with rows, threats and insults because of Percy's behaviour.

Molly watched Percy wait for the train. When it had come, he seemed a bit startled. When everyone else was boarding the train, Charlie sighed and gestured for the Percy to follow him but he didn't move at all for the first few minutes. He turned to his family, obviously waiting for some sort of a goodbye.

Molly moved to wrap her arms around Percy's frame, and hugged him so tightly that she felt like she'd probably made him feel sick. Arthur laughed but proceeded to do the same. Percy's glasses nearly slipped out of his face, but Arthur had managed to rescue them. His cheeks coloured slightly when Arthur gingerly placed them back onto Percy's face.

"I…I'm sorry," Percy mumbled under his breath, his voice soft. "I'm so sorry for running away and being absolutely childish about it all. I swear I will change it."

"Percy, I…" Arthur seemed surprised by this as well.

Percy hadn't stuck around long enough to figure out what Arthur would say, but Molly could take a guess. She watched Percy walk alongside Charlie, whom was handing both of their trunks. Molly couldn't help but notice that Percy's limp was getting worse.

Arthur watched them board the train. He didn't say another word for the rest of their journey back home.

CHARLIE was so tired of this bloody game. Percy seemed to become as docile as he usually was on the day of them leaving to Hogwarts, which Charlie hadn't decided was a good or bad thing yet.

Ginny and Ron were definitely confused, but they also seemed to hold a tiny grudge on the things that Percy had been saying to them ever since he'd been taken back home. The twins seemed to be fickle on how they feel about Percy, and Percy was just... unreadable at the moment. Bill was more than a little frustrated. The rows, fights and threats that had happened the past few days have been replaying themselves into Charlie's mind for days. He felt like he needed a summer from his summer.

September had come far too soon.

Honestly, he wanted to keep his distance away from Percy. The whole thing was such a shambles to him. He felt like their relationship had suffered such a strain. Besides the nightmares that he'd gotten when Percy left the hospital, he'd had many sleepless nights of playing Exploding Snap with an angry Bill that was about two seconds away from reopening Percy's stitches. _Oh, and then the seizure that drove their mum stark mad?_

Charlie closed his eyes as he fixed his prefect badge on his robes. This was far too much for him to handle.


	14. Chapter 14

_i don't know how long this fanfiction is going to be but i can only imagine the answer would be " very, very long". this is probably not going to be a fanfic. this is going to need its own volumes. by the way, __i'm not planning on keeping him eleven forever, but apparently, we're at chapter fourteen and he's just going to be sorted and God knows how long until we get to the "illness that bands him dangerous by Ministry standards" because technically, Percy's first seizure could be a 'one off'. though all the warnings still stand. i'm not even sure who the main characters are of this anymore since i keep on throwing random things. i'm sure to adjust the character information on the margin if i get a better idea about where i'm going with this._

 _i've an inkling but i'm not sure whether or not to go with it... fingers crossed._

 _to any inquiries:_

 _ **Sakura Lisel:** it's implied  epilepsy. it's just not "confirmed" because Percy only had one (and it was related to his fever), and i've made this into a "three strikes and you're out" since two could be called coincidental but three subsequently happening to one person is a bit of a stretch and is branded as epilepsy by then. not sure if i've mentioned this, but i'm sure that i'll keep hammering it in at some point. _

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Oliver Wood smiled warmly as he was dropped off the train by one of his orphanage workers, Loretta.

A week ago, he found himself feeling sad and angry over the fact that the Arthur Weasley cancelled their meeting. He hated it when that happened! When people rejected him before they _met him_! He wanted to be adopted so _badly_ that it made him physically sick at times. He hated waiting for Hogwarts Express and seeing all these families drop off their children.

He looked up at Loretta, wishing that she would give him a hug…

She didn't even _look_ at him!

He looked down at his robes. He wanted to feel proud because he paid for these robes with his own money. He had been selling copies of _The Quibbler_ in the street for the past two years. It was hard. Once, he had a man spit at home once, and tell him to go home to his parents!

When it was time to board, he was one of the last ones to board the train. There were so many people on the train, and he could barely find a compartment for himself. Then he saw this little freckled redhead that was sitting by himself and looking outside the window. He didn't think that the redhead would want Oliver to join him, so little Oliver darted his eye back and forth, trying to find somewhere else to sit. He had decided to trail backwards and hopefully find another spot…

He heard boisterous laughter from a bunch of second year Slytherins.

Oliver looked back at them and felt something solidify in his stomach. He had heard tales from the workers at the orphanage about how _bad_ the Slytherin house was. They said that most of the Death Eaters came from _that_ house! Oliver grew apprehensive at the thought. He didn't have any parents anymore, because those Death Eaters took them during the war. He didn't know if they were alive, but after two years of waiting, he thought that they had to be dead. Oliver had no connections to the rest of his family, and didn't know their names very well at the age of nine. He remembered one of the men from the Ministry (where that _nasty Arthur Weasley that wouldn't give Oliver a chance_ worked at). His file only had 'Oliver'. He remembered begging and screaming for them to change it. His name was Oliver Wood. His name will _always_ be Oliver Wood.

"Look!" a black-haired Slytherin called out zealously. "It's itty bitty little ickle ginger ale. He's not so pretty in real life as he is in the pictures that they put up in Diagon Alley! He's the one that ran away because they stole his bleeding sippy cup."

The redhead looked away from the boys, as if he was looking for someone to help him.

"Are you going to run off the train and plot your next big escape?" a tanned Slytherin just beside the black-haired one called out just as smoothly. "If you want, we can somehow jimmy those doors open with a few charms, and help you _leave_. Do you want to leave? Try again? Maybe you'll get away this time!"

"Go away," the redhead said in a stern voice. "Or I _will_ call a prefect over to control you."

"Oh! A _prefect_! We're so _scared_!" they called out in unison, smirking towards him.

Another sound broke Oliver out of his concentration.

"You should be," the voice belonged to a built ginger and he didn't look very happy about it. The second year Slytherins disappeared immediately when he spoke.

The ginger prefect looked over at the little redhead and nodded his head before looking back at Oliver. "Sit down. It's unsafe to wander about the train when it is moving."

Oliver immediately went to sit beside the redhead. As time passed, Oliver kept on staring at the redhead and he knew he shouldn't. He revised what the Slytherin boys were saying in his head. Did the redhead really try to _run away_? The thought angered Oliver, as he would give anything for a home. He wanted to be taken care of so badly.

"Will you _please_ stop looking at me?" the redhead immediately stated, looking back at Oliver with a dark expression on his face. "It's unnerving."

Oliver could tell when someone didn't like him off the bat. He didn't like the redhead and for some odd and probably idiotic reason, the redhead didn't like him. The ginger prefect returned shortly after and gave the little one a little bit of money (probably for food).

The young redhead slowly nodded his head, and had taken the money before very carefully placing it into the massive bag that he was carrying. "Thank you, Charlie."

The ginger prefect – _Charlie? Where had Oliver heard this name before?_ – had nodded his head smoothly before offering a rather energetic grin. "If you need anything, Percy, then you know where the prefect compartment is," he said before he disappeared down the train to his compartment.

Oliver glanced back at the redhead – _Percy_ – and found himself lost in a daze again.

"Stop staring at me," Percy announced smoothly after a few minutes. He didn't look like someone that would run away from home. He looked like someone that was scared of everything and anything. "It's rude, obnoxious and as I mentioned before, _unnerving_."

Percy used a lot of big words that Oliver didn't understand. It was very annoying. Oliver didn't stop staring. He couldn't help it. Where else was he supposed to look? Percy was hogging the window, and he didn't want to look down at his feet. "Did you really run away from your home?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in darkly, but then he nodded his head.

"You're _really_ overdramatic and it's sort of babyish to run away from your home," was all that Oliver could say about it. It really was.

Percy just shifted uncomfortably over to the window. "Please stop bothering me, Oliver."

The young child was rather surprised. He hadn't told his name to anyone else on that train yet. Half the people in the orphanage didn't even know his name, so how could Percy know? It made little Oliver feel very uneasy.

"How did you know my name?" the brown-haired boy called out.

Percy just looked down at his lap, without saying another word. Oliver wouldn't lie – this entire situation was frightening… to have someone know his name without really knowing him was a _terrifying_ thought.

All Oliver knew was in fifteen minutes; he had _paid_ another student to sit with Percy instead.

BY the time that they'd reached Hogwarts, all of Oliver's worries were erased. He spent the train ride ignoring the jibes that the Slytherins continued to make over towards the redhead and talking to the girl that was next to him. She was interested in Quidditch too, so they got into a little fight over teams. It was very fun and Oliver couldn't wait to go to the castle and make for from himself.

When they were in the Great Hall, Oliver was very nervous.

He sat and watched the first years being sorted. He couldn't wait until he was sorted into his house. He hoped that he'd be sorted into Gryffindor. He'd like to think he was brave… he didn't cry many times when they took his parents away from him. He just woke up that morning and faced the uncertainty anyway. He also kept on selling copes of _The Quibbler_ in Knockturn Alley sometimes when he was very desperate, even though he had heard all the rumours there about them sexually and physically abusing small boys there; that it wasn't safe.

The girl that he had been talking to had been sorted into Hufflepuff. She seemed happy.

Oliver got a glance of Charlie sitting by the Gryffindor table, and that was when he had made the conclusion: _Charlie Weasley_! He recognised him now that he had paid more attention to the ginger. He was a Seeker for the Gryffindor team. That was how Oliver knew him as he was absolutely obsessed with Quidditch and had memorised names and photos of every team imaginable. Oliver remembered lying in bed after being told that Arthur Weasley was going to contact him and take him home. He remembered how happy he felt like; thinking of someone bigger than him teaching him all sorts of cool, quirky things about Quidditch!

Oliver found himself fuming again. This was what he could've had and he didn't.

 _Wait… if it was Charlie Weasley_ , Oliver had started to conclude, _then it was Percy Weasley._

Oliver felt himself growing queasier by the moment. Just the thought of the family that he had been hoping to hear from in _weeks_ being the same family that Percy tried to run away from made him feel angrier by the second. He wished that Percy would've gotten hurt just so that he could realise how important having a family was, _especially_ since many children lost their parents and siblings during the war! This was a bloody joke! Oliver wanted to do nothing more than walk up to the redhead and start a brawl over this because it infuriated him that badly.

Oliver felt nothing more than pure and utter _hatred_ simmer in his bones towards the young redhead.

The Sorting seemed to take forever. All Oliver hoped for was to go to his bed and kick things. He didn't even care what house he was sorted in anymore! He might as well be in Slytherin for all anyone cared! He was also very hungry, and he wanted to get to his table and eat himself until he was sick. He sighed to himself. At least they were getting close to the W's now! This also meant that they would be calling Percy soon if his suspicions were right.

Oliver kept his gaze on Percy at all times, noticing how frightened he was. He should be. No Gryffindor would be enough of a coward to leave his home like he did. He should be stuck into an awful house, but Oliver knew that he wouldn't get what he deserved because he was a Weasley.

 _All Weasley's got into Gryffindor – it's been that way ever since the start_ , he remembered someone in the orphanage saying as they tucked Oliver into bed, _because they were good people_.

"Weasley, Percival!"

Oliver didn't want to watch. It was obvious that he was going to end up getting into the same house as the rest of his ancestors, but Oliver still kept his eyes on Percy. Usually, the Sorting Hat took no time at all to call out where they were supposed to be at but there was a delay here that made Oliver raise his eyebrow and smile maniacally to himself. The Sorting Hat probably knew how bad Percy was if it was taking so long!

 _Yes!_ Oliver thought to himself. _He should've thought of this before he ran away from the home that I want!_

Oliver kept his eyes on Percy's very pale face for some time, and then glanced towards Charlie, whom seemed to be furrowing his eyebrows.

"SLYTHERIN!"

It was loud and clear, and it made Oliver's heartbeat faster. _Yes! Yes, yes, YES!_

Percy seemed to be surprised and didn't say anything at all as he staggered off the stool and walked towards the Slytherin table. Oliver glanced over at Charlie, whom looked like he just wet himself (which was a little funny he had to admit). The whole hall was silent for a minute or so before they called the next name. It even took a while for Oliver to realise that they called out his name! There weren't any Gryffindors being sorted yet. Would he be the first? The only one? Would he be sorted in another house completely and there would be no Gryffindors this year at all?

Oliver couldn't stop smiling when the Sorting Hat proclaimed him as, "GRYFFINDOR!"

He was proud of himself because he deserved it after trying very hard to get to where he was right now. Oliver got off the stool and practically ran happily to the Gryffindor table, smiling to himself. He was the only Gryffindor in the year, so everyone was paying a lot of attention to him in the Gryffindor table which made him feel special. He had heard from some people in the orphanage that the reason he didn't get adopted as easily as other children was because he was special.

Oliver sighed to himself and ate a lot of good food. In the orphanage, they never let him eat what he wanted. It was always what was available and special treats were only saved for birthdays or special holidays. Here in Hogwarts, he was able to eat as much food as he wanted. It would be here tomorrow, and he didn't have to stuff himself to sickness with Christmas biscuits on the twenty-fifth because there weren't going to be any tomorrow. It made him feel very happy.

As he ate, his eyes flickered back to the little redhead that was sitting by the Slytherin table. He looked sad.

Oliver pushed away the bad feelings, and grabbed another bun. It wasn't _Oliver's_ fault that he was a crybaby that ended up in Slytherin! It was his fault. Percy was meant to end up in Slytherin, because if he wasn't – he _wouldn't_ have ended up in Slytherin, right?

That night, Oliver went to his dorm. He was the only one there and it made him feel sad. He tried to go to sleep, but he woke up very early in the morning and cried.

He missed his _real_ family, and he wanted to go home.

THAT evening, Percy was staring down at the letter that Charlie had given him when they'd gotten on the Hogwarts Express. It was something that his mum and dad had written before they'd left the Burrow and Percy had been frightened to open it at first. When he had, he felt ill and wished he'd just thrown it out of the window. His parents were telling him that they were proud of him and that McGonagall was not that scary. If he needed any help or felt awful, he should go to the head of his house.

Percy felt like _screaming_. McGonagall wasn't the head of his house!

He felt tears rush to his eyes whenever he thought about the sorting. He fought with that hat about it, but the hat was so sure. He wished that he could've torn off that hat and ran off before it said that he was a Slytherin. _Slytherin_! He was the first Weasley in his bloodline to be sorted in anything that wasn't _Gryffindor_!

He kicked his bed, feeling close to screaming. He told his dad that this might happen, but his father was so certain that he would get into Gryffindor.

There was something wrong with him. It wasn't his family. It was _him_. Percy. There was something wrong with him, and that was why he got sorted in the worst house possible! He wasn't brave, courageous, humble and good. He was cunning, conniving and so blind with ambition he couldn't tell his head from his arse! Percy read it again, and felt sicker. He felt close to throwing up, and he didn't understand how considering that he hadn't eaten a thing since his two crumpets over at breakfast this morning. Percy grabbed the letter and chucked it into the fire in the Slytherin commons. He was going to end up in big trouble for being sorted into Slytherin! He just knew it. They were all going to hate him!

They were going to throw him outside of his own house, shouting things like: _this was what you wanted, wasn't it, Percival? Well... get out of our bloody house_ , and Percy would be all alone and afraid. He had told them that he was sorry for leaving! And now, it didn't matter. He couldn't fix this, and it was all that stupid hat's fault! They should throw that stupid hat into that fire too! It was old, wrinkly and smelly anyway. It was wrong. It had to be. This wasn't his fate. He wasn't supposed to be bad.

Percy curled up in the corner of the room. The rest of the boys in his year were playing wizarding chess and getting to know each other. He saw a few of them introduce themselves as he went into his dorm. He wanted to join them, but he was scared. He was scared of being with children of Death Eaters, but he was also scared of being alone.

He didn't want to be here. He wanted to go home. He was sorry for ever leaving. He didn't mean to!

 _This is all your fault,_ he concluded. _You cannot break another rule again. You see what happens when you break rules?_

"STOP it!" eleven-year-old Percy called out in frustration, as he watched a few Slytherin first years using their wands to scribble _obscenity_ onto the walls, as if they wouldn't be caught by Snape sooner or later. "That's against the rules! You shouldn't be doing that! Stop it, or you'll get into massive amounts of trouble!"

The Slytherin girls giggled, but then slowly ran off when they saw that Snape was walking towards them, grumbling to himself about something. Percy didn't know why they bothered running off. Snape had an astounding memory!

"You can go now, Mr Weasley," Snape said in drab tone of voice, rolling his eyes. "You do realise that we do have prefects, head girls and head boys for this sort of a thing, don't you?"

Percy slowly nodded his head, and looked down at his feet. "It just irks me to see people breaking rules that were set for _their_ benefit!" he exclaimed, not meaning to sound so fervent about it, but this was the _fifth_ time that day that he saw some form of a Slytherin breaking rules – and it was only four o'clock!

Snape didn't seem to have this sort of enthusiasm – at least; not visibly. "Yes, yes, Mr Weasley, I'm sure you're right… go to your dorm and stop disrupting the normal balance of things."

"If the prefects _did_ do their jobs, then I wouldn't have to have to do it for them," Percy announced all of a sudden, flushing deeply.

He went back to his dorm room. He did have an essay for Charms that he _should_ be focusing on.

On a crisp Tuesday afternoon, one of the Gryffindor boys stole his watch and had smashed it. It made Percy very angry as it was a very important watch. It was charmed for him to remember when he was supposed to hand over specific essays towards his professors.

 _It's just a watch_ ; the Gryffindor Quidditch player had called out. _It's not even a good one! Stop being such a girl!_

 _Are you sure he isn't one?_ Another one chimed in, and they laughed at him for being the only Weasley in the lineage that didn't get into Slytherin.

It didn't get any less awkward since the sorting – in fact, it seemed to get worse. It had gotten to the point of Charlie ignoring him when he needed help with his assignments because he didn't want to be seen with the brother that was sorted in the house his entire family loathed so badly. Percy couldn't bring himself to answer any of his mum's letters. He read them and threw them into the fire. He tried to tell himself that his quills were better used for other things, but that obviously wasn't the reason for his lack of communication.

The Hogwarts castle was very big. Even when he was looking for someone, he couldn't find them.

He'd been looking for Penelope for weeks now. Percy recalled her being sorted into Ravenclaw and them sharing smiles towards each other. Perhaps, she was avoiding him because of where he was sorted at as well. Everyone but the Slytherins seemed to treat him like absolute dirt. The fact that the Gryffindors hated Percy so much made most Slytherins take a liking to the bespectacled ginger.

He remembered the day one of the Hufflepuffs said: _I bet he didn't run away. I bet that they kicked him out of the house for being a pain in the arse_. This was straight after Percy reported said Hufflepuff for loitering in the Quidditch pitch well past the time frames that the school allowed. He had done this out of the goodness of his heart and yet, they continued to call him names and hope that he'd rot in Azkaban.

That Saturday morning, at seven am, he had emerged from the showers, his hair dripping wet, his curls limp and his face seemingly paler than usual in lieu of the morning light. He had been wearing a very dark school robe over his Slytherin uniform. He was rubbing sleep from his eyes at the Slytherin table, as he tried to look for some form of bread for breakfast.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught the sight of Charlie talking in an angry and annoyed tone of voice to the Gryffindors. He looked like he was getting more and more frustrated by the second. When Charlie caught Percy looking at him, he flushed and looked away. That was when Percy's blood run cold as he realised Charlie was talking about _him_.

THAT evening after a long day at Gringott's, Bill returned home to find Errol standing by window. The way Errol was strutting round the window made Bill feel like the owl downed a barrel of firewhiskey before he arrived to Bill's room. Right about now, Bill was packing the things that he needed to take with him to Egypt. When he'd told Molly that he was leaving the country, chaos ensured. Mashed potato was thrown, and cries of _"don't you love me at all? Then why are you leaving me?"_ ensured.

Arthur thought Bill should go. Of course, he'd never voice this to his wife, not when she was at this state.

That was all that Bill needed to go up to his room and start packing. He was going to leave in an hour, and he surely didn't need any more Hogwarts-related messes to attempt to clean up before he went. Still, Bill gingerly took the letter from Errol, whom offered him a scowl due to Bill's lack of owl treats.

Bill broke the Hogwarts Gryffindor seal, knowing that he was going to regret this dearly.

 _Dear Bill,_

 _I am about to lose my mind. Last night, I ate a quill for breakfast and I hadn't even noticed until my mates told me. I haven't told mum or dad yet, but Percy's not in Gryffindor. He's in Slytherin. I don't know how to approach him, especially after all that happened in the summer. What the Merlin's blazes am I supposed to do?_

 _Regards, Charlie_

Bill stared back at the rest of his things, which were left unpacked. He loathed being the oldest. Everyone always assumed that he was Dumbledore. Had all the right answers.

 _Dear Charlie,_

 _Deal with it_ _._

 _Sincerely, Bill_


	15. Chapter 15

_i've recently re-written this. it was way more serious than i wanted, and there was a part in this chapter i written in the beginning that made me cringe so i had to eliminate it before it breeds and more ridiculousness would follow it. unfortunately, not the **good** kind of ridiculous where you're sat there, wondering "what on Earth is happening here" but keep on reading. no, this is the kind of ridiculous where you're sat there, rolling your eyes, thinking to yourself "of course, this author decided to use  x plotline."_

 _replies to any inquiries:_

 _ **WolfSpirit1992** : Charlie is going to get used to Percy after some point. it's just going to take a few chapters and a bit of him being a little awful. but he'll get used to it. i do have to note though that this chapter has some Slytherin interaction on a more friendly/civil basis, and it'll definitely be more accentuated in later chapters. funny thing is that i never thought of shaping the characters the way i did when i wrote them. they just shaped themselves, but it's definitely interesting... not sure where the characters are taking me with this to be honest._

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Chapter Fifteen

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Penelope Clearwater would be lying if she said she hadn't been intentionally avoiding seeing Percy Weasley.

She had seen him limp very badly, and she was always afraid that somehow, he would fall apart when she looked at him too hard. Her inquiring nature had led her to talking with Charlie on more than a few occasions about Percy's injury. When she heard the words _doxy infection_ and _febrile convulsion_ , she realised that she needed to investigate this. Thus, whenever she had a bit of time, she tended to spend it in the library. This was difficult as it seemed to her that when Percy had a bit of time, he also liked to spend it in the library.

She had gone to her head of house, Filius Flitwick, for answers about the things that she had seen.

Penelope started from the beginning – being abducted, her encounter with Alec Lestrange, Percy rescuing her and fleeting to safety, her stumble upon the manticore and her hearing about Percy's injury. The man seemed to be most interested in hearing about the manticore encounter and Percy comparing him with his cousin, the sphinx. He even chuckled at the riddle that the manticore made up. Penelope was more interested in knowing how badly the wound infection would harm Percy. Flitwick seemed to give her some of the answers she needed, or directed to where she could go to find the answers that she had needed. Penelope mentioned the possibility of Percy being epileptic, but wizarding epilepsy was so rare and uncommon that Flitwick hadn't seen a case of it in his life.

She read and read. She wanted to talk to him more than anything, but she couldn't stand looking at him! How could people even treat him like there was nothing wrong with him? He seemed to be staggering so badly half the time that she felt like dropping whatever she was holding and directing him to Pomfrey (even though Percy would absolutely loathe and protest it). A few hours ago, Penelope had caught sight of him walking down the corridor, limping so badly that he had to stop every few minutes to gather himself. He seemed to be in great pain. It shouldn't be like this.

He should be healed and content with his life. He was a _hero_ , and nobody knew it!

That same day, Penelope found a very useful book that Flitwick had insisted she read. She had sat in the library along with the dictionary. She turned to the chapter in the book that she had been looking for, and felt her heart race a thousand times quicker.

 _An account of known and recorded cases of limb amputations due to doxy infections: 1955-1985._

IF SEVERUS Snape was told to pick what he hated most about the Slytherin household, it would be the rumpus they enjoyed crafting after midnight. At around one in the morning, he had been disturbed by Terence Higgs, whom had been staggering on about how Marcus had accidentally shoved in half his wand down his throat. A common spell had rid them of their 'problem' and Snape retired to his chambers, cursing the universe for offering him a job that was analogous to a prolonged Cruciatus curse.

He immediately slid back into his bed, having have not slept properly the previous nights. He pulled the sheets up against his frame. Snape had never bothered to change into anything other than the black robes that he often wore when he was in his classes because of nightly disturbances such as these. He knew that hoping that he would go to sleep without anymore interruption was like assuming that if he was in the Dark Lord's dungeons, he would not be tortured within every inch of his life.

It was around two o'clock when he had been disturbed in his chambers once more.

Snape immediately sat up from his bed, grumbling in joylessness as he wore his best impenetrable scowl. He opened the door to find little Percy Weasley leaning against the door frame.

Snape groaned, frustrated. For some reason, the young ginger-haired boy was not intimidated by Snape and seemed to run to him every time there was a problem. Snape merely assumed that the little child probably caught a bunch of Slytherins breaking the rules, and had come to Snape's chambers to tell them off as he had at three o'clock that afternoon and at eight o'clock that evening.

"Yes, Mr Weasley, what is it?" Snape drawled on discontentedly. "And can it wait until the morning? You see, I generally enjoy sleeping at this time of night."

Percy bit down his lower lip and looked up at Snape. "I'm sorry, professor."

The man ran his hand through his long, greasy black hair. There was a lapse in silence that lasted more than a few seconds. It left Snape incredibly irritated.

" _Well_?" Snape called out in annoyance. "Aren't you going to tell me what was so urgent that you had to interrupt my sleep for?"

The young redhead became flustered, and bit down his lower lip before shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, professor. It's…it's not important. I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep," he picked up himself off the floor and staggered off back to his dorms.

Snape immediately shut the door afterwards, and went back to his bed. Due to his incredible luck and a tendency for things to go wrong at night, the door was knocked on again that night. Snape was _very_ surprised when that had happened. He rolled his eyes at the banging, and stood up from the bedside. He glanced back at the clock. Just seeing the time was enough to allow disdain to course through his veins— _ah_! Another visitor! And this time, it was at _four in the morning_!

Lividly, Snape moved from his beloved bed and walked to his room.

Upon cracking upon the door, he sighed again when he realised that it was none other than Percy Weasley leaning against the door frame yet again. For the fifth time that day, he had wondered why the Sorting Hat decided to give him the pain of dealing with a Weasley. Why couldn't he be sorted into Ravenclaw?

Everyone would be happy then! Flitwick didn't mind dealing with students after hours!

"Mr Weasley, if you think that this is funny, then I would like you to assess your idea of humour," Snape didn't even give the child a chance to speak. "Off to bed with you. I will throw you out of the Slytherin commons if you insist on bothering me yet again tonight."

He noticed that the boy was just staring at him, as if he did not comprehend basic spoken language.

"Answer me when I am talking to you, boy!" Snape suddenly exclaimed.

He grabbed the freckled child by his shoulder and guided him back down to the Slytherin commons. He would take him to the boy's dormitory himself if he had to. As he was stewing in annoyance, he hadn't even noticed that he was guiding _air_ back to the dorms. Snape sighed in anger. Where in Merlin's name did that child disappear off to?

He looked back to see Percy Weasley standing by the fireplace.

Snape sighed to himself, and moved back towards the child that tried to walk away but had collapsed in front of the fireplace in an abrupt fashion. He didn't know what Percy was playing at. He leaned down to scoop up the child in his arms, when the freckled redhead started to convulse. It surprised Snape for a few moments.

Snape hadn't seen anyone have a seizure since... well; he'd never seen anyone have a seizure since he'd attained a post as a Potions professor.

Snape's eyes widened when he'd suddenly felt something breach his mind.

Quickly, he allowed himself to push out any kind of intrusion as he attempted to empty himself from his emotions and focus on the logic of the task at hand. How was it that an eleven-year-old that barely knew how to wave around a wand, much less know a ruddy thing about Legilimency, try to breach Snape's barriers? It was laughable. He heard the sound of something slowly becoming torn.

Snape turned to look down at himself and then project his eyesight towards one of the chairs, which though charmed to repel this kind of nonsense, was slowly coming apart at the seams. His attention was further divided when the Slytherin table broke (this too repelled all sorts of ruddy schoolchildren charms). Bits of parchment and books were suddenly flying all over the commons.

He found himself trying to recall the two minute talk he was given – what was it? _Six_ years ago just before he'd got this ruddy job? – about what to do when a child was seizing. He could recall none of that rubbish.

A thundering bolt of lightning struck, and Snape found himself staring agape as the stony wall that enclosed the common room from the rest of the dungeons suddenly imploded on impact.

"That's enough now!" Snape called out, fuming, as he grabbed a convulsing Percy by his robes, who had coincidentally stopped convulsing right that second.

Snape could hear the indescribable chatter of Slytherins that were leaving their bedsides, wondering what that sound must've been and here he was sat, wondering whether to get Percy to be expelled by Dumbledore for somehow managing to damage school property, or if he should take him to Pomfrey. If not for the bluish tinge on the ginger's lips and hands, Snape would've chosen the former.

Of course, Snape had to tell Dumbledore about this on any accord, but first, he had to deal with the students that were already piling near the wall, inspecting the damage near the commons. Some of them were looking highly alert for someone that was up in the wee early mornings, others looked confused, and others were agitated at what the ruckus seemed to be.

"What's happened here?" a Slytherin third year with a thick Cockney accent called out, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Where's _the wall_? And what happened to that—?"

Marcus looked to be beaming, "This is _brilliant_. I always thought that wall was rubbish."

"Oi, now, we only have to find someone to break your thick head," Miles murmured, only for Marcus to glare over at him.

"Professor?" a frightened-looking Anne McKendrick emerged from the broken wall down to the common room. Her prefect badge was hastily pinned to her dressing gown, and she haphazardly wore a clock. She glanced back down at Percy Weasley, whom looked to be groggily staring at the ceiling. "What's happened? I might be mistaken but I think I've heard a bolt of lightning! All the way up from the girls' dormitories—"

"McKendrick, escort the Slytherins back to their dormitories at once," Snape cut her off with a sharp look.

He was absolutely _brimming_ , seeing how McGonagall had made her way to the Slytherin dungeons along with Dumbledore by her side. Dumbledore looked amused whilst McGonagall was looking at the wall with a confused and surprised look on her face.

"What's happened, Severus?" McGonagall called out, moving into the commons now that the barrier between the commons and the rest of the dungeons. "Where in Godric's good name is _the wall_? And what happened to that table? Or those couches? I could've sworn on Merlin himself that I heard a lightning bolt."

"I assume that Godric Gryffindor was having a laugh," Snape murmured in annoyance, looking down at Percy, whom was fully curled against the carpet, asleep. "That foul hat decided to give me the displeasure of dealing with a Weasley, and suddenly, the Slytherin commons has been torn asunder."

McGonagall seemed affronted. "You're not implying that Mr Weasley did this, did you?"

"He had a convulsion, destroyed the common rooms in the process and then fell asleep," Snape explained in a disinterested tone. "Sounds like one of your lot, doesn't it?"

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore announced, his voice soft as he looked over at Percy. "Minerva, I think it's best if you were to get him to the infirmary, don't you?"

McGonagall leaned down to nudge Percy slowly, but he didn't seem to be waking up after a few gentle ones. She made them a bit more forceful and Percy slowly opened his eyes, looking muzzy and weary. Snape supposed that knocking down the Slytherin commons really wrecked one's mental state then. He could barely believe that this reedy little thing could inflict harm on a glumbumble, much less be the cause of this tumult. Percy was trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, as McGonagall tried to gesture him to the infirmary. Percy could barely walk with his shaky legs, tumbling with every few steps he took.

"I want you to tell me precisely what happened," was Dumbledore's first order.

Snape reiterated the story from the start, not forgetting to mention his surprise. An eleven-year-old that happened to destroy Slytherin furniture with ease and shoot a lightning bolt out of nowhere? And that lightning bolt happened to snap an enchanted stony wall that repelled even _archaic_ magic? Not to mention that this putrid child tried to break into Snape's mind and Merlin knew if he caught sight of anything before Snape put down the imaginary double doors. As Snape spoke, Dumbledore stroked his beard, an inquisitive look on his face and a small smile etching upon his features.

"I think I'll have you owl Molly and Arthur, don't you?" Dumbledore asked.

The only thing Snape did was scowl and roll his eyes. "I think we ought to owl St Mungo's instead," he huffed in annoyance. All Dumbledore did in response to this was raise an eyebrow.

After a few seconds of silence, Snape finally found himself muttering in sarcasm, "I'll _gladly_ owl his parents."

TREKKING towards the infirmary, McGonagall found herself having to keep a firm hand on five-foot-six Percy Weasley's shoulder to keep him from tripping on air. It was rather irritating that Percy was acting like he'd been out drinking an extensive amount of firewhiskey from how uncoordinated he'd been rendered post-convulsion. Halfway through their path to the infirmary, McGonagall's agitation and doubt had gotten to the point where she herself had to check for any signs of alcohol ingestion (for it was not _that_ unlikely that an eleven-year-old had a tipple and knowing that he was a Weasley was more reason than not to check for any signs of intoxication), but they'd all come up clean.

"Mr Weasley, you are testing my patience," McGonagall announced in an annoyed voice.

Percy tripped down onto the ground, placing his head into his hands. His shoulders shook and he bit down on his lower lip. " _Professor_ _Mic-Gone-Ah-Gale_ ," at this point, McGonagall was trying to resist looking for signs of alcohol intoxication for the fifth time in the last two minutes. At least he remembered the _Professor_ part. "Is _Professor Snap_ made at me?"

"Nah, mate, _Professor Snap_ is not mad at you," a sound came from behind, only for McGonagall to turn around and notice Miles Bletchley standing there in his grey-and-green striped pyjamas. Being nicely just an inch or so under McGonagall's height and carrying a sturdy amount of weight on, Miles had no problem tossing Percy over his shoulder like he was weighed less than the standard barn owl.

"I am not your mate," Percy hissed out, groggily. "Let me down."

Miles offered a sickly sweet smile to McGonagall. "Where am I to toss this tosser, Professor?"

"Firstly, you will abstain from such language. Secondly, you should be in your dormitories... However, I suppose I could use a little bit of help getting him to the infirmary, but it's back to bed when that it is over." McGonagall mentioned, but gestured for Miles to follow her anyway. This would certainly be quicker with a little aid, and she was not sure if she was allowed to use any spells post-convulsion, so she thought she best be safe. "Understand, Mr Bletchley?"

"Aye," Miles insisted, beaming at her.

McGonagall knew her hopes for a silent walk to the infirmary were crushed. Miles seemed to find it necessary to talk as they moved down the corridor.

Miles was brightly grinning as he spoke, "Did this twat really end up shooting a lightning bolt during a fit? Because that's what everyone else is saying— _and is Potions cancelled for the week?_ Snape said that it was 'cause of the big breach in the commons. He was worried that your lot would take the time to _besmirch_ our _honour_."

McGonagall huffed, as if it was absurd when she knew that it was more likely than not.

"My students will do no such thing," she insisted. "Not on my watch. I will talk to Professor Snape and I will ensure that all classes are continued despite this slight hiccup in the curriculum."

Miles frowned and sighed deeply. "This isn't any fun, Professor. What would it take for our classes to be postponed? I mean there's a giant gaping hole in the wall..."

McGonagall tried to ignore his tittering as they made their way into the infirmary where Miles seemed to slowly place Percy on the bed. He groaned and turned to the side, not bothering to wrap the white sheets over his frame or kicking off his black, tattered school loafers (Pomfrey would not be happy about that).

"Sleep well, mate," Miles called out towards Percy, grinning wildly. "I'll save you a few pumpkin pasties tomorrow morning. I like you better this way. You don't ignore me as much."

"I am not your mate," Percy mumbled half-asleep, groaning. "And make those Cornish pasties and I won't throw you out tomorrow morning."

"He's my mate," Miles said to McGonagall in a most serious tone.

"Is _not_ ," Percy insisted, burying his head into the pillow.

"Go to bed, Mr Bletchley," McGonagall muttered. She did find this slightly strange though. She thought that Percy was so alienated because the Slytherins didn't want to be friends with him, not the other way around. She did suppose, however, that having a family that looked down on Slytherins was the main cause of that. "And try not to break the castle overnight."

"I'll try my hardest not to," Miles responded in the same solemn tone before he left the room.

BY the time that Percy had regained some form of consciousness, a fleet of confusion rested on his shoulders. He had no idea what had happened. His mind was infiltrated by fuzzy greyness and instances of time that had passed without any true recollection of colour or images.

He looked down at the bed. Why was he here? In a _hospital_ cot? No… this was the _infirmary_.

Percy's heart suddenly pounded in his chest as he stared at the time by the clock. What was today? He looked back at the calendar that Pomfrey kept in on the wall and his heart pounded into his chest. It was Friday for Merlin's sake! He had Double Potions this morning, followed by Double Transfiguration. He missed _both_! This afternoon, he had History of Magic, and he would definitely attend that even if he had to sell one of his kidneys. He had _never_ missed a class before today!

This was… this was…

"Mr Weasley, please… _breathe_ ," the command was from Pomfrey, whom was standing there, looking at him with a concerned expression.

She offered him a potion that was in a shade of purple he did not quite recognise.

Percy looked down at his legs, and just quite blatantly refused to take a potion for something when he did not know why he was there in the first place. He pushed the potion aside, which left the grey-haired woman standing there, looking absolutely insulted.

"You must drink this," she insisted, pushing back the potion to him.

Percy shook his head again. "Why am I here? I wasn't ill last night… I'm _not_ ill. I feel fine!"

"You are not fine, Percival. You had a seizure last night. You stumbled onto Snape's quarters. You managed to destroy the common room. They've arranged a few students to watch over the commons to prevent further disruption," she said all too easily before pushing back the potion to him. "And talking to your brother, Charlie, it seems like this was not a first time. I must assess you soon, and if this happens again, then you will be forced to be sent out to St Mungo's to be kept there until proven stable."

Percy did not recall going into Snape's quarters at all last night, but he must've? Was this a dream?

He placed his head into his hands. "I _am_ stable! There's nothing wrong with me!"

They kept on telling him about these convulsions that he had, but he had no memory of them. The thought of not remembering something that had happened to him that everyone else seemed to recall was sickening and frightening….did he _really_ go to Snape's quarters late at night, even though he knew how much his Potions professor despised being woken up after hours? The thought left him antsy. And what exactly did he do to the commons? _Destroy it how?_

He took the potion from Pomfrey's hand and gulped it down in record speed.

He knew that the first time he had the convulsion; it was because of the doxy infection.

Now…?

Now, he might genuinely be an epileptic and the thought was sickening. The whole Ministry thought that they were dysfunctional and highly unstable. There wasn't a record case in years. He had fuzzy, unclear memories of his father talking about it when he was young and recent ones of Charlie discussing it with Bill.

This was terrible! He ruined everything! An _epileptic_ and a _Slytherin_? His family would hate him. His father would throw him out of the house! This was all his fault for leaving. If he hadn't left, then he wouldn't have gotten bit by doxies. He wouldn't be in this immense pain _all the time_ from his leg! Maybe he wouldn't even be sorted into Slytherin...

His father should've gotten that boy, Oliver, that didn't like Percy. He would've fit in nicely. Oliver was a _Gryffindor_! Percy had shamed the whole family. He deserved the pain that was adamantly coursing through his veins, that was there every time he walked – it was there to remind him that this one mistake that he had made had changed all of his life and that he deserved every bit of anguish that came with it. He deserved the sleepless nights where he curled up against the pillow, wishing the pain away. He deserved the days where Charlie ignored him because he was not the same as the others. He deserved every joke and jibe every person had ever made of him.

Percy wanted to scream. _Why_ did he run away if he could not face the consequences?

He was too weak. He was a coward, and everyone would know that his ambition was his downfall; his flaw. Everywhere he went, he was coloured in green and silver; never quite red and never quite gold. He was the snake that cowered in the face of a lion, and bit back weakly in hopes that the poison would be enough to slow it down. It never was. The poison was too weak, and his body was too slender. He would never truly be the king; always the prince. Always meant to be broken but never meant to mend. Pomfrey's voice was a dull note in Percy's brain. He listened, and drank his potions like he should be. He followed her instructions to the letter, and let himself be flood with nothing more but consequence.

He wanted to cry when he missed his History of Magic lesson.

"GOOD afternoon," Miles announced, walking in the infirmary with Marcus Flint just behind him. "I came this morning but you were knocked out so well, mate... I even decided to use your arm as a bit of parchment paper and tried to pass my time before Potions."

Percy was not in the mood for this. He looked down at his arm and noticed that Miles had somehow managed to ink the Falmouth Falcons logo on his arm.

"Don't worry, mate," Miles insisted with a sickly sweet smile. "It'll go away in twenty-four hours."

"Knowing Bletchley, that'll be more like a week," Marcus snorted, looking abnormally groggy for someone that should've been awake for Potions, but of course, when did Marcus Flint ever wake up for any class that started before two in the afternoon? "You're alright, Weasel. Especially since you tore down the commons' room wall with a lightning bolt."

Suddenly, Percy's eyes widened. "I did _what_ to the commons room wall?"

This had to be a dream. In a few minutes, he'd wake up. It would be Friday, and he'd be going to his Double Potions class where Snape would be breathing down his neck as Percy tried to perfect his Cure for Common Poisons potion like he'd been trying to all week. Most importantly, Percy would _not_ be sat there in the infirmary, near tears at the knowledge of having have destroyed the commons room wall. What would his mum say? She was going to kill him. His parents were going to gobble him up like a Sunday roast.

"And you split a table in half," Marcus decided to add on, because that knowledge was exactly what Percy was missing from his _miraculous_ moment. "Tore another couch at the seams."

"I've entrusted a little flea with the act of bringing you over Cornish pasties this splendid afternoon," Miles said, as Percy tried to rub off the Falmouth Falcons logo off his freckled arm.

"Flea?" Percy reiterated before he saw a poke of long, black hair by the doorway.

"Aye, puce means flea in French. My mum told me when I was a wee lad," Miles expressed, raising an eyebrow. "And there's Pucey."

"I am not a flea," Adrian Pucey expressed, walking into the room with a plateful of Cornish pasties. Percy did not even like those. He thought they were too stodgy. Why did Miles get him Cornish pasties when nobody in all of Slytherin (sans Terence Higgs) ate them? "Here are your pasties, dear, dear heir of Salazar Slytherin's throne. We are just Kneazle droppings to your greatness."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "You referred to yourself as Kneazle droppings but you loathe being called a flea?"

"You've just been _Incendio_ -ed, mate," Miles decided.

"That isn't very nice," Adrian said with a pout. "I've bought you Cornish pasties."

"Why did you get me Cornish pasties?" Percy cocked his head to the side. "I don't even like them."

Percy simply shook his head and then sighed deeply. What he wanted was to turn back time and not have that bloody fit. How was he going to explain to his mum that he'd accidentally demolished the Slytherin commons? How was he going to tell his parents that he was a Slytherin? It wasn't even _three days_ yet, and he'd broken the rules! In fact, not only did he break the rules, he broke the common room! For shame...

"You told me you wanted Cornish pasties, mate," Miles insisted.

Percy swore he could feel his eyes melt out of their sockets, as he reiterated for what felt like the millionth time that week, "I am not your mate."


	16. Chapter 16

_comment replies to any inquiries made regarding this fanfic:_

 _ **Ward Vermassen** : aye. i see your point. i can assure that it's going somewhere, albeit **very slowly** (i'd rather i'd go very slow with the plot than too quickly). i think i'm at somewhere around Chapter 22 (but i have to re-write some things and fill in gaps. so it's really just this chapter that i'm semi-pleased with) and all i can say is that it does have a  main plot and there is a lot of things that were mentioned that weren't random so to speak. specifically in the earlier chapters. however, i think the angst level doesn't tone down much even though there are lighter scenes than say - the beginning where practically all the scenes were heavy and serious. there will be a lot of subplots that seem complete unrelated and some that are completely relevant._ _as for the settings, i'm assuming that Miles, Marcus, Terence and Adrian are around Percy's age so that they are all first years._

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Chapter Sixteen

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Molly's head was spinning as she read the owl that Severus Snape sent her, mentioning how Percy had somehow blown up the Slytherin common room within a few days of him being in his house due to another convulsion that he had. She sat there, feeling numb as she sat down by her chair, rereading the owl so many times that the words had to be etched in her skull. She traced them with her fingers after she burned her tongue on a milky cuppa. Molly stared at the letter for so long that she seemed to have forgotten herself until Fred gained her attention by tugging at her sleeves, muttering nonsense about them tricking Ron into doing something foolish.

Molly nodded her head, and stood up, placing the letter aside as she picked up her wand.

If Percy really was in Slytherin, it would explain why he wasn't answering any of her owls. All she kept on mentioning to him was to go to McGonagall if he needed the help and to tell him when he needed warmer clothing so she could send him scarves, gloves and blankets that she'd knit herself at home. She also needed to send him some chocolates since Bill had seemed to be getting a lot of sweeties from this lass that liked him, and he'd been sending them to the Burrow because _"there's no place in my ruddy apartment for this."_ George and Ginny had been eating themselves silly off walnut whips, but Molly kept some aside to send to Charlie and Percy soon.

Slytherin. Her son was in _Slytherin_...

Molly could recall how he'd been telling Arthur worriedly that he'd get into a house that wasn't Gryffindor. Arthur brushed away his fears with comforting gestures, and an insistence that he _will_ end up in Gryffindor. Molly believed it too. She just didn't think that any other house would be a possibility. She didn't feel any kind of contempt for Percy for _where_ he was sorted at. Molly was just stunned that it was a possibility, considering that of the Weasley family had always been sorted into Gryffindor. It would just be something strange to have to him talk about his Slytherin friends (did Percy have any friends yet?) and have him wear those green-and-grey colours that the rest of them did not approve of. It would be something strange indeed.

 _But not impossible_ , Molly decided. _Not impossible at all._

Molly sighed when she saw that Ron's hair seemed to be in various shades of pink and his robes seemed to be ten times smaller than he was and corrected the twins' little prank in no time, only to shoot the twins glares and give them a stern talking to. Fred and George looked guilty for about five seconds, but it dissolved almost immediately and they were back to causing ruckus. At least, this time, poor Ronald wasn't involved. Molly lovingly ran her hand through his vibrant red hair, and took him to the kitchen to give him one of the biscuits that she'd made yesterday along with a cuppa.

Whilst Ron was drinking, she found herself processing what the letter was actually telling her.

 _Percy did WHAT to the Slytherin common room?!_

CHARLIE's head was spinning as he stared at the Slytherin commons room with a gaping expression.

"That brother of yours is really something," a third year Gryffindor decided to tell Charlie, jabbing him at his side and Charlie resisted the urge to snap the skinny third year's arm like the bloody twig it was. "You know, if any one of us made a gaping hole in the Slytherin commons, we'd be expelled but he gets away with it because he's on Snape's good side for being a ruddy nosy brat."

"Charlie? Are you alive?" another one called out.

Merlin. Percy did this? Percy whom couldn't open his own walnuts (even with a wand) _did this_?

"Charles, what is this? Didn't I tell you to send a letter to St Mungo's to get that epileptic brothers of yours under control before he decides to kill us all?" a stern, female voice called out from behind him. Oh, not _her_. Charlie knew Bludgers that were nicer than _her_.

Charlie shook his head, coming back to reality. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a squeak.

He would let himself faint, if not for the fact that he would have to come to terms that he had to talk to Percy about making a hole the size of the Burrow in the common room. He couldn't believe this. He could barely fathom any of this. He half felt like crying, but also felt like laughing because this cannot be happening. Percy had only been in Hogwarts for _three days_.

Blimey... Bill was frolicking around in pyramids in Egypt and Charlie had to deal with _this_?

SEEING Percy absent from the Slytherin breakfast table had prompted Penelope Clearwater to ask one of the Slytherins about Percy. When she heard him mention _Pomfrey_ and _Snape said something about a convulsion when Adrian Pucey asked_ came to view within the conversation, she had immediately hurried over to Filius Flitwick to discuss the possibility of Percy being diagnosed as an epileptic. The man didn't seem very happy about telling her that the chances against him were higher than they were in favour of him.

She had locked herself in a bathroom stall and cried pitifully to herself.

 _Percy was a hero!_ He didn't deserve to be an epileptic for the rest of his life. He had saved her life, and now, he was hurt because of a doxy infection. She couldn't help but feel like it was her fault, even though she knew it wasn't. He was just trying to get away from that family that doubted his bravery… even the Sorting Hat did, because it put him into _Slytherin_!

A few hours later, a sad Penelope found herself wandering to the infirmary carrying goodies into her bag.

She paused when she had seen that Percy already had visitors, and not the kind that she wanted to encounter—Marcus Flint was laughing lewdly about something that was probably unimportant. Terence Higgs were gesturing towards something with his fingers. Percy was resting on the hospital cot. His usually untamed curls were now straightened to a point where Percy looked even duller than usual (quite a claim for someone whose hair was brighter than the bleeding sun).

"What happened to his _hair_?" Penelope called out in horror.

Percy just looked away from Penelope's facial expression for a moment. "Leave us," he said to his friends, whom just seemed to playfully punch Percy's shoulder and said ludicrous things about Percy _getting it on with a Ravenclaw_. Penelope huffed towards them as she watched them leave, wondering how the Sorting Hat ever believed that an astounding individual like Percy could _ever_ be in the same house as these vandals!

A moment of silence suddenly filled the room when they had left. Percy seemed to curl up in his bed. Out of the corner of Penelope's eyes, she just noticed the abundance of books he had beside him as well as a few scrolls. How could he _not_ have ended up in Ravenclaw?

"I prefer it this way," Percy suddenly announced. It took a few moments for Penelope to remember that they had just been talking about his hair. "It's tidy instead of unkempt. A girl Miles Bletchley fancies taught me how to straighten it up with my wand just a while ago."

Penelope nodded her head slowly, and then asked, "How many people visited you?"

"From _Slytherin_?" he raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head.

Penelope felt herself fill with some form of warmth. She just _loved_ hearing him talk. His voice made her spine tingle like no other. "From other houses, silly! I don't care about Slytherins."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Just you."

Penelope was appalled. "What about _Charlie_?" she suddenly asked, absolutely enthralled—and then they wondered why Percy ran away from his home?

The redhead continued to shake his head. "I'm afraid not."

"I can't believe Charlie didn't visit you! He's your _brother_ , and you just had a _seizure_. You shouldn't be punished because you're a hero, Percy. You saved my life! I would be dead without you," Penelope said in a serious manner. "This is a joke. I feel like only you and I know about it…oh, and your brothers aren't a help either. They saw the manticore and they lied about the encounter."

Penelope sat down on a chair that was plopped in front of him. She cracked open her bag, and produced a large container filled with nutty brownies. She took out him a big, almond-studded one, and offered to him. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. It made her feel cold knowing that he refused her offer for dessert. She picked up one of the walnut ones, and chewed angrily. Bits of fudgy brownie flew from her mouth, landing everywhere. When she was done eating that brownie, she had picked up another one in record speed and ate it just as quickly.

"This whole thing is a joke," Penelope suddenly spat out in anger, picking up another brownie and chewing so hard that she felt like she was breaking her teeth. "When _you're_ in the Ministry, you should make them quarantine the forests out of these doxies! They're not helping anyone. All they do is bite at you and if they get anywhere near an open wound, then you're done for. Just look at what they did to you!"

She just realised how much of her inner thoughts she voiced out. Her cheeks coloured in. Penelope also hadn't noticed how much she was mindlessly shoving into her mouth as she ranted—a _third_ of the brownie batch was _gone_ … This was so humiliating! Percy didn't seem to be fazed by anything she had said. His gaze was towards the window.

Suddenly, she was aware of how pale he was. It was sickening.

"Do you think that Dumbledore can help?" Penelope said all of a sudden, her voice very soft. "People have to know what you did. It's important. You defeated a Death Eater for Merlin's sake."

"People already _know_ what I've done, Penny…" Percy's voice was softer, "I've left my family."

Penelope's heart was racing. "Percy, you had to leave your family. They were treating you rotten. You deserve to be _noticed_! Don't let yourself shrink to accommodate what they think that you should be."

It broke her heart to see him like this. This wasn't like him. What had happened in their time apart?

Percy shrunk into the hospital cot. He wrapped his arms around himself, crying so hard all of a sudden that her heart stopped. "I can't do this, Penny. I can't do this anymore."

She reached out to wrap her arms around him. She had knocked off the container of brownies from his cot that she would clean up and throw away later, even though it was a rarity to have her mother make them. He cried into her shoulder, and as his sobs got louder, her blood boiled.

THE _first_ thing that happened when Percy was told that he could get out of the infirmary was Percy being seized by these Slytherin first years that had insisted on carrying him on a _throne_. Yes, that was read correctly. It was the most abhorrent thing that Percy had ever thought of. Here he was trying not to draw attention to himself, and all of the first years were carrying him around like a _prince_! He did not know how they had gotten said throne, but he supposed that Marcus Flint and his lot had something to do with it, considering that Miles was trailing beside Percy, trying not to collapse into laughter. Percy also caught sight of an agitated-looking Terence, an ecstatic Adrian and an amused Marcus.

 _Brilliant_. This was exactly the opposite of what he wanted.

Penelope and Holly seemed to be standing beside a couple of portraits, staring at Percy with wide blue eyes. Penelope flushed almost immediately and started to giggle as Holly fished out her cameras.

Miles took the time to mention that a photo was worth a Galleon. This ended up with Holly threatening to cut off whatever lived in his thick skull, but she did end up coughing up a few Galleons, so Percy supposed it was Miles that won this round. A few photos later and Percy found himself not only feeling completely and utterly _ridiculous_ (especially when he was _crowned_. For Merlin's sake! Why was he crowned with _Medusa's_ hair? He did not feel very powerful. He felt like a tosser... and this crown was giving him a headache).

"Is this the recognition that you wanted me to get, Penelope?" Percy chided, sounding drab.

Penelope giggled and nodded her head, cheeks rosy and rubicund as she and Holly walked alongside the Slytherin's. Where they were going to? Percy could only assume the scene of the crime.

"You know Snape is going to _murder_ you," Penelope insisted.

Percy nodded his head, face completely lacklustre. At least he did not have any essays that he was missing out on whilst he was being paraded around the school on a throne. Merlin, how was he going to explain this to his mum? _Dear mum, not only do I now have to sport green and grey underpants or the lads will make fun of me, but the first year Slytherin's have adopted me as their king for the time being. Also, I suspect Miles Bletchley has been looking through my underpants drawer since they'd been completely folded before I was sent to the infirmary but are now messier than a Fwooper's nest. Love you, Percy._

"What in Merlin's good name is this?" Charlie said, nearly dropping his toastie, which was, of course, ham and cheese. Percy was sure Charlie's dietary intake consisted only of ham and cheese toasties.

Oliver Wood was standing beside him, staring at Percy with an unreadable expression.

"Do you want to give praise to our prince?" Miles mentioned and Percy bit back the comment he had about how their 'prince' couldn't pay for a nice pair of socks. He was irritated by the number of holes in his mismatched socks (they were white and black) and the fact that his loafers had been hand down through so many generations that Percy believed that the original owner probably died in 1863.

Charlie looked close to laughing now. " _Prince?_ You do realise that Snape will make sure you die a most perilous death when he catches sight of this, right?"

Percy just placed his hand on his cheek and leaned down against his throne. "I'm aware."

"Charge!" one of them seemed to call out and it was just then that the Slytherins that seemed to be carrying him seemed to be running so quickly that Percy felt his world turned to a blur of black and white. Percy was sure that the flapjack that he had for brunch seemed to be tossing around her stomach. A colicky pain started to form in Percy's abdomen.

By the time that he stopped, Percy seemed to fly from the throne at an impeccable acceleration.

Unfortunately, Professor Snape was there to cushion his fall, but not before he retched all over Snape's robes.

MOLLY watched as the rest of the children went off to play Exploding Snap whilst Arthur just sat down. He barely got his jacket off before Molly insisted that he sat down with her for a meal. Molly normally ate with the children, but she thought to eat with Arthur today. She'd kept on rereading the letter so many times. _Another fit. Percy destroyed furniture. Percy broke a wall. Percy was in Slytherin_. It reiterated through her head so many times throughout the day that she did not feel like a real person.

That afternoon, she took them all down to the shops and found herself feeling weird as she wandered towards the Slytherin robes section. She didn't know whose robes Percy was wearing since she'd packed him Gryffindor uniform and robes. Bill's old ones actually. She was aware that Hogwarts did have a specific section for students that did not have appropriate clothing for their houses specifically for instances like these, but Molly supposed that Percy had been wearing the same uniform and robes for the past few days now.

Molly felt somewhat ashamed of herself for glancing over at the shop when she picked up a pair of Slytherin ties to go with a standard uniform, and a pair of Slytherin robes, lined with green and grey piping. She did not know whether to buy him a size she knew might be too small on him, or to buy him something that would obvious be too big on him. She decided to go with the latter, because he could always grow into it later on like Charlie did with his Hogwarts clothing. When she went to pay, the cashier gave her a look that made Molly's blood grow cold. She felt like she was committing a heinous crime instead of just buying clothes for her child. She had to change this. She couldn't just act like Percy was different because he was sorted in a different house, a _rival_ house.

Molly kept on piling on cottage pie onto Arthur's plate without really stopping because she felt highly worried about how this was all going to turnout.

"Love, that's enough," Arthur insisted, taking the plate from Molly and offering a smile.

"Professor Snape wrote to me," Molly suddenly called out, not sure why she started with that clever opening line. Arthur just offered her a raised eyebrow. "Percy hasn't been writing to me because he's been sorted into Slytherin and I've been telling him that McGonagall isn't that scary to talk to. I feel ruddy awful about it. I just went out into the shops to get him some robes and a uniform."

There was a stand still silence then.

Arthur sighed deeply and nodded his head. "I feel gutted," he admitted.

Molly supposed that this was better than she hoped. Normally, Arthur's Gryffindor-wired mind would barely be able to accept the idea of any of his children ending up in any other house that wasn't Gryffindor, much less a rival house like this one.

"We'll get used to it," Molly insisted. She at least hoped. She didn't want to act like this when Percy was around. She didn't want to make him feel like he stood out because he was a little different.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "I suppose I owe him an apology then. He's told me that he's always been worried about not ending up in Gryffindor after all, and I've told him that such a thing wouldn't even be possible. I mean... who'd have thought that Percival would be the one to break generations of what feels like tradition at this point?"

"I know," Molly said, rubbing her shoulder. "It felt wrong buying him these clothes. I feel like it's all one big joke and the twins are going to walk in now, announcing that they're the masterminds behind it."

Arthur placed a mouthful of cottage pie in his mouth and slowly nodded his head.

Molly's cheeks coloured in. "There is one other thing that I have to mention..." a hesitant smile spread on her lips, and she felt exceptionally nervous in that very moment. "Percy might or might not have blown up the Slytherin commons' wall and destroyed some of their furniture."

Arthur seemed to choke on the bit of pie that he'd consumed. Laughter lines appeared on his face, as he tried to prevent himself from guffawing.

"Arthur, this _isn't_ funny," Molly said in an utmost serious tone of voice but Arthur's laugh was so funny that she couldn't help but dissolve into soundless chortles. She brought the spoon to her face, clinging onto it tightly as to not alert the others that they were laughing about something. Normally, Fred and George would want to know what was so funny.

"Do we have to pay for it?" Arthur suddenly asked, still beaming with a smile and trying not to laugh.

Molly shook her head.

"Then I think it's _very_ funny," Arthur dissolved back down to the same soundless chortles that Molly had.

Molly rolled her eyes, and just shook her head. For a few moments, she let the silence fill the room as they ate cottage pie and dinner rolls. The conversation went to what happened at work, and Arthur didn't seem to be nearly as animated about the newest muggle toy that had been bought to him, eyes still lively from the Slytherin commons' room explosion.

When they scraped their plates, Molly went to pour some tea, feeling any joyfulness in her heart disappear.

"Percy's had another fit," she admitted, her voice soft. "If he has another one—"

"He won't," all laughter was now drained from Arthur's face. "He won't have another fit. He _can't_ have another fit. I won't let it happen."

If Percy had another fit and he was branded as an epileptic by Ministry standards, then he would have to endure hell to get back his status as a human being by the end of it. From what Molly knew, they just tossed epileptics away into wards until they were thought of as stable. Even then, Percy would _never_ be allowed to have an apparition test. He would not be allowed to fly a broom. He wouldn't be allowed to live a normal life in the wizarding community without the universe scrutinising him for it.

"You can't promise me that," Molly insisted, looking back at Arthur with an expression as soft as her voice.

The sound of Ginny yelling at George about cheating seemed to interrupt the silence. Molly went to check up on them, and managed to subdue them with a suggestion of a game of chess. Ron immediately jumped to his feet to his chess board, whilst the others groaned and said something about how chess was boring compared to Exploding Snap. Molly surveyed them for any visible injuries. Content with her findings, Molly insisted that they play chess with Ron, especially after all the naughty pranks that the twins had been pulling on him ever since Percy had gone to Hogwarts. They gave in when Molly threw one of her characteristic glares and hurried back to the kitchen, where Arthur had pulled out Percy's Slytherin robes and had a good look at them.

"I feel angry," Arthur said, flipping the new robes, "And I shouldn't. They're just robes."

"I know," Molly insisted, sitting beside him. This really would get a lot of getting used to...

"I'M sorry for getting you in trouble, mate, but detection isn't so bad. I mean—scrubbing a few desks and alphabetising all the potions ingredients by hand isn't as bad as it could be," Miles insisted, putting a bottle of aconite on the shelf. "Look on the bright side—"

"Shut up, Bletchley," Adrian, Marcus, Terence and Percy said all at once, looking up from the potions ingredient listing that they were required to alphabetise in the following weeks. Unfortunately, said potions list was so large and extensive that Percy had calculated that it would take them approximately six months, three days, and twenty hours to do this by hand, given that all of them attended these detentions and that they worked for an hour and a half on them.

"One more thing," Percy said as he grabbed a bucket full of water and a scrub, "I'm _not_ your mate."


	17. Chapter 17

_i've tried to re-write this chapter and the subsequent ones but it's fairly difficult to, so i'm just going to leave them as is. i really wanted to change this particular chapter, but aye, my accident prone Percy shows up yet again. i wanted to somehow take off that last bit and convert it into something else, but no luck really. i wanted to slow down the plot a little but any slower, and it'll be a 100-chapter story with chapter 90 being a 13-year-old Percy._

 _shut out to the warnings that are more applicable here and will be applicable further on: **isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**._

 _a few notes and responses to inquiries:_

 _ **chemical violets** : i actually laughed so hard at this. every time i look at this comment, it actually makes my day._

 _ **Ward Vermassen** : when you mentioned, **A: Acts on his anger and B: Does not forget all injustice as soon as chocolate or pizza is in sight** i think i fell in love with you. i am very annoyed with a character suffers from a serious misjustice but a bit of a coddle is all that it needs for that person to get over it,  especially in the context of serious psychiatric disorders. _

_**Guest** : i love you for that comment. i really do. _

_in other news : also, there's a heavy **abuse ** plotline as i mentioned in the warnings. the abuse plotline is there for a reason. it does not seem very obvious in the beginning but it will become more obvious later on._

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Chapter Seventeen

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Percy had his hands on his watch, the watch that was charmed for him to remember when to hand over his essays to specific professors. It was well broken beyond repair. Percy had spent the last ten minutes calling out a repairing charm after another, hoping that it would somehow revive his shattered watch. Percy felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and he couldn't remember what essay was due when—so, naturally, he'd been writing all of them all as if they were all due on Monday. Oh, how Percy loathed that stupid Gryffindor Chaser that thought it was hilarious that Percy was agonising over his poor, little pitiful watch. There was _no way_ that Percy was ever going to turn in an essay late... yet at the same time, he did not know how to interact with all the other Slytherin's and ask them when their essays were due.

Ever since the Gryffindor Quidditch players had broken his watch a few days ago, Percy Weasley hadn't slept a wink. He'd been going through an absurd quantity of coffee just to keep himself awake for the next minute. His hand was cramped and he wasn't sure what colour his ink was anymore. He was trying to steady his hand enough to write the last few words. _Just a few more words_ , and then he could sleep. Or maybe, maybe instead of writing that last sentence, he could sleep now. What harm would it do?

Percy buried his face into his Charms essay, breathing in the scent of fresh parchment paper. The exhaustion weighed heavily on his frame. _Just for a few minutes_ , he decided...

"You bloody bastards think it's so funny, huh?" Marcus Flint's voice echoed through the _once_ empty and blissful Slytherin common room, which had been fixed a few days ago. Percy was glad to note that that since it had been fixed, this bollocks about Medusa's hair as a crown and being carried around by a bunch of first years was no longer something he had to worry about. Thank King Arthur's goat for that.

Percy didn't have to look from the parchment paper or open his eyes to know it was Marcus Flint. He had a distinctive, somewhat aggressive tone of speaking that no other individual could perfect. At the moment, that particular sound was equivalent to having his head banged by a bunch of frying pans after drinking far too much firewhiskey the previous night. Thus, Percy wore his best impenetrable scowl, placed his essays on the table, stood up from one of the chairs he'd sunk into and walked towards the source of the ruckus.

Almost instantly, he was welcome by Marcus and his crew—hit by a hex, a hex he would've noticed if not for the fact that a large proportion of his brain had already fallen asleep.

Terence Higgs pulled away his wand almost immediately afterwards, a shit-faced grin appearing on his face. "Oi! Mate, didn't see you there."

Percy was glad he was so weary that he did not feel the slightest bit embarrassed, even though he could see that his robes now matched Ginny's cerise, satin curtains back home. "Firstly, I am not your _mate_. Secondly, that's practically impossible considering I'm just about thrice your height. Thirdly, if you want to survive within the next three seconds, I'd demand you change back my robes this instance."

Apparently, he was not so tired that he could not allow himself to slowly feel his blood boiling. These _were_ his best robes, and now, they matched Aunt Muriel's hat.

Terence offered a sheepish smile. "I don't really know the counter-spell per _say_."

"Merlin," Miles Bletchley... Bletchley, Bletchley—annoying, reckless, had-an-accent-that-made-Percy-want-to-bite-his-cheek-to-prevent-doing-something-regrettable _Bletchley_ just had to speak. As if Percy wasn't at enough of a risk of being sent to St Mungo's for a hypertensive crisis at the ripe age of eleven. "I know I've already placed a bet on this in the beginning of the year, but are you really sure you're not ole Snape's long-lost son? I mean the resemblance is uncanny. You've even got the _pierce into your soul_ scowl. Look at that—you've even aged fifty years."

"Bletchley, why do you exist?" Percy tried to keep spite out of his own voice.

Marcus snorted, eyes on Miles' face. "I've asked the same thing multiple times."

"You wound me," Miles insisted, his voice full of mock hurt.

As if Miles had permission to touch him, his hand clung around Percy's arm rather quickly. He was sure at the moment that the colour of the face matched the colour of his robe—or rather, at this moment, the colour of the blood that would be gushing out of Bletchley's nose if he did not unhand Percy this instance. "I know we got off at the wrong foot this year. I mean, what with me and my mates making fun of you after the common room's been fixed but we were just having a bit of a laugh."

Percy glowered at him icily. "My choice of underpants was none of your concern, Bletchley."

"I didn't expect them to be so patriotic is all. Nobody wears underpants with the Union Jack on them. _Nobody_. I didn't mean to yell it out to the whole Slytherin commons—nor did I mean to steal all your underpants the following day," Miles insisted with a voice as smooth as honey. Percy was sure Miles had it in him to be a politician. "I just wanted to take a few samples for research purposes. I'm doing an extensive survey regarding what choice of underpants is the most common in the Slytherin commons."

Percy's facial expression melted into apathy. "I suppose that that's alright then. After all, I can understand why you had to wear my—um—patriotic underpants over your uniform Tuesday morning, whilst singing _God Save the Queen_... obviously for research purposes."

Percy did not fail to notice that Adrian Pucey was not there, which meant either he was asleep (unlikely), or causing havoc elsewhere (likely). Fortunately, Percy was too tired to be looking for people to report to Snape and he was pretty sure that Snape was less and less happy to see him as the days went by—not that he was ever happy to see Percy walk to him with a two feet of scroll of all the rules the Slytherins managed to break without being caught by a prefect or a Headboy. This indirectly confirmed Miles' hypothesis about Percy having any kind of blood relation to Snape.

"This was not funny," Percy said easily, pulling out his wand and changing his robes back to their original state. This apparently surprised Terence.

" _I_ didn't think it was funny at all," Miles insisted.

Marcus looked dangerously close to whacking Miles with a meat cleaver. "That's because you want to get into his underpants, Bletchley."

"He already did," Terence mentioned, offering a smirk.

Percy rolled his eyes and turned to leave. "Goodnight, Marcus and company," he muttered.

"Oi!" Miles suddenly called out. "Why is it that you acknowledged Marcus but we're just _company_?"

"I'd always assumed Marcus was just the most prominent figure," Percy said, only for Marcus to raise an eyebrow at this notion.

"Prominent how, Weasel?" Marcus hissed.

Percy rolled his eyes. "It's just...well," how could he say that Marcus was so aggressive that Percy just assumed he was the leader of this, _err_ , pack of some sorts? "Prominent as in hard-to-forget, as in—"

"Is that a crack about my looks?" Marcus glared coldly.

Percy's cheeks coloured in. He turned to gaze at Terence, whom was particularly silent. "Trust me, Flint, I'd be less discrete if I was ever to mention anything about your appearance, which is fine by the way. I don't see what everyone's fussing on about in regards to that."

"What are you looking at _me_ for?" Terence raised an eyebrow, looking irate.

"It's just... didn't you wonder what the counter-spell for your charming hex was?" Percy suddenly mentioned, looking annoyed by the prospect that Terence hadn't probed into it. "You never asked, so either you lied about not knowing the counter-spell _or_ you really don't know the counter-spell but you didn't bother to ask, which is far worse than the former."

Terence just shrugged. "Can't be bothered to know the counter-spell."

Percy's eyes widened, as if Terence had committed a cardinal sin that he should be punished for. _"You can't be bothered?"_ he repeated in a higher than normal tone of voice, enunciating every syllable with a look of disbelief etching upon his face. "You can't be bothered to _know_?"

"That a problem?" Terence mentioned, raising an eyebrow. "You know, they should've put you in Ravenclaw if you're going to look at me like I've called out an Unforgiveable just because I can't be bothered to learn about some stupid counter-spell. Besides, when I hex people, I never want to _undo_ it!"

Percy just shook his head. "Suit yourself," he mumbled. "I was just... surprised."

Before Percy bothered to take his essays to his room, he turned to take one last look at them. They were happily chattering away about some nonsense involving Adrian Pucey and the girls' dormitories. Percy filed away this key piece of information for later. He pulled out his wand, directly it towards Terence and called out a dissolving spell. Almost immediately, the fabric of Terence's robe started to disintegrate, leaving small pale patches of skin out for the world to see. Most of his robe was still relatively intact. The holes sinking into Terence's robes were small and sparse in amount. Marcus' laughter bellowed out into the commons, which were starting to fill with students that realised that they had to turn into bed soon else Snape would have their heads. Terence was somewhat flushed, but relieved when he realised that his robes wouldn't just dissolve and he'd be stuck in the common room in his underpants.

" _That's_ why knowing a counter-spell is important," Percy insisted, as he walked towards the table where he'd picked up his essays. He took one more glance at Terence, noting two small patches around Terence's pelvis. Percy allowed himself to smile self-righteously before he said, "I see I'm not the only one that has a _patriotic_ choice of underpants."

"Git," Terence decided, but he was smiling as well. He then asked, "What's the counter-spell?"

"Depends on whether or not you can answer a question _I_ have," the redhead muttered.

"That is...?" Terence raised an eyebrow.

Percy paused for a few seconds. The tension that was in his shoulders dissolved. "When are the Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and History of Magic essays due?"

BREATHING in the warm Saturday morning air, Percy found himself turning to his side. He might go back to sleep from exhaustion and he didn't even care like he usually would that he was thinking of wasting the day sleeping. His mind was finally at rest. He'd finished off his History of Magic and Potions essays, which were the hardest ones because the topic they were on was so vague that Percy found himself renting enough books to start a library of his own. After reading and memorising, reorganising the information into his brain and asking Filius Flitwick far too many debatable questions, Percy found himself with two perfectly written essays that he may have deprived himself of sleep and food of to produce. Without getting out of bed, the first thing he'd done was reread what he'd written. He was glad that it was coherent, because when he'd tried to reread what he'd written at four am on a Thursday morning he found that he couldn't grasp his head around any of the words. This, of course, caused an unnecessary anxiety to brew in his belly that Thursday night, and he was convinced that his existence was pointless and was all for naught.

Percy admired his handwriting for a moment. He had tragically awful _x_ 's and _f_ 's that he just about refused to acknowledge even existed _but_ the rest of his handwriting was sublime if he'd say so himself. He let his hand press across a highly curly _f_ in _France_. Oh, Merlin, did he hate himself for having an _f_ that was curlier than his hair, and an abnormally artistic _x_ that instead of inspiring elegance, made him look like a right arse. Percy rolled his parchment into a scroll, and then turned to his side, yawning heavily. Just as he was to return to sleep, he felt a hand grab his leg and drag him out of his beloved bed. He looked down to see Miles Bletchley standing there with a smirk on his face.

"Get up, Weasel," Miles muttered, able to pull Percy out of his bed without much effort.

Percy felt a sharp pain fill his body. Why did Bletchley have to try and pull Percy out of bed by putting a hand on his dodgy leg, which nearly always was in some mild, irritating pain? Now, the pain was definitely not mild. It was pulsating and sharp, as if a dagger was used to slice through. He bit down his lower lip to prevent himself from crying out, and all that came out of his lips was a low hiss. He hadn't noticed he'd been clutching his hands until later.

"Bletchley, I am not leaving this bed," Percy insisted with a huff.

Miles smirked, and threw Percy over his shoulder as if the redhead was nothing more than a china doll and then turned to walk out of the dormitory. Percy's eyes immediately widened. Just as he was about to say something to the effects of _put me down, you big oaf_ , Miles did in fact put him down after they'd excited the dorms—not in a gentle manner either. He just let go of Percy as if he was nothing more than a piece of heavy weight he wanted to get rid of.

"You shouldn't say such things," Miles smirked, hair looking unkempt to the point where Filch might mistake his head of hair for Mrs Norris. "You knew that I had to."

"Pull me out of my bed for no real reason other than irritating me?" Percy was not a morning person. Even less so now that Bletchley pulled him out of the bed. "I hope you actually _do_ have a reason. Otherwise, I'm inclined to having to slaughter you before it's even half past seven."

"I do, I do," Miles mentioned, eyes sparkling with joyfulness. "Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts are today. What kind of mate would I be if I didn't make sure that you were there to watch Wood lose a 100 Galleons?"

"Bets?" Percy's voice was high. "You woke me up so I can see you try to bet on who is going to get into—?"

Percy's eyes were suddenly wild with anger. "You _must_ be joking. I bloody loathe Quidditch."

Miles' eyes widened. "What? You don't like—you don't like—? That's it, Perce, we're not mates anymore. I'm sorry. I can't be mates with someone that doesn't like Quidditch."

"You are _not_ my mate!" Percy repeated for what felt like a thousandth time that year.

Miles nodded his head, and pretended to walk away in complete and utter despair. A few seconds later, he grabbed Percy by his wrist and practically dragged him down the hallway. Percy's leg was throbbing with so much anguish at that point in time that he felt like throttling Miles. By the time that they'd even gotten to the pitch where the tryouts were being held, Percy was clutching his stomach so tightly that he'd bet he'd formed bruises on his skin. He didn't even dare to care. The throb in his leg was so bad that it was all he could focus on. Miles shoved Percy in between Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey. By then, Percy let out another hiss. He'd bitten his cheek so hard that he could already taste blood.

"I hate Quidditch," Percy grumbled. They hadn't started yet and probably weren't going to start for a while.

Marcus snorted as if Percy had said something impossible. "Say that again and I'll break those bloody mirrors you call glasses."

At the mention of his glasses, Percy pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose.

"Someone woke up at the wrong side of the coffin," Adrian muttered under his breath.

"I'm _part troll_ , you git, not a vampire," Marcus reminded Adrian, glaring at him. "I thought I was supposed to be the one that's dumb as a rock. Maybe you've also got a little troll blood in you, Pucey."

"I'm too pretty to have troll blood in me," Adrian insisted, flipping his long, shiny, jet-black hair back.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You're taking the piss out of _me_? Merlin, you've got the nerve."

Percy's eyes were on Marcus' face for a few moments. His grey eyes were very stone-like, his black hair bristly, his teeth large and somewhat deformed. The way the light hit Marcus' eyes, however, was a different story entirely. They became nearly non-opaque, and a snowy white in colour. Percy did not know many people whose eyes could do that. He did not fail to notice that he was fairly ashen-faced, to the point where his skin looked greyer than his own eyes. Another thing he did not fail to notice was the presence of very vibrant finger-shaped bruising on his neck. The black shirt that he seemed to be wearing underneath his robes seemed to have slid down to show off the bruising on his skin.

"What are _you_ looking at?" Marcus suddenly called out, glaring at Percy.

Percy's heart thudded and he just looked away from Marcus. "Nothing."

His eyes wandered to the pitch, where a congregation of people seemed to be chattering about. There was an unusual ruckus in the pitch, what with many students sitting on the stands, waiting for the tryouts. Percy's attention didn't stay on the pitch for long, because it went to the fact that Marcus seemed to be rolling up parchment paper and throwing it towards Oliver Wood's head. Every time Oliver gave an icy glare back at them, Marcus just smirked. Marcus kept on levitating the same ball, grabbing it and throwing it over at Wood's head for the past ten minutes. Percy could nearly feel Oliver's blood pressure rise with every hit. Oliver suddenly grabbed the ball before Marcus could levitate it and then tore it into shreds before turning his attention towards the pitch.

"I think that was your Potions essay, Marc," Adrian muttered.

"Don't call me _Marc_ ," Marcus glared at Adrian's face. "Aye. It was my Potions essay. Most useless wad of parchment paper I could find in the common room."

"I'm sure that isn't true," Percy couldn't imagine how horrified he'd feel like if he was in Marcus' position—then again, he wouldn't be balling his essay and throwing it towards Oliver Wood either. No matter how tempted he might be. "If you'd like, I'm available throughout the weekend to help you rewrite and craft a more useful wad of parchment paper to hand to Professor Snape on Tuesday."

Everyone else seemed to burst into laughter as if Percy had told an exceptionally hilarious joke. Percy just sighed deeply, and turned to look back at the Quidditch pitch.

"Stay quiet, kid," Terence muttered, even though they were the same age. "You'll embarrass yourself less."

Percy rolled his eyes. _Says the bloke that nearly broke a phial containing a deadly poison not two days ago!_

When Percy caught sight of Charlie standing in the field, wearing his dark red Quidditch robes. Percy felt a pang in his chest. Suddenly, despite his great hate for the game, he actually wanted to be there helping Charlie out and gaining some sort of approval. He hated being stuck here in the stands, away from Charlie, whom seemed to have caught sight of him but ignored his existence entirely. In that second, Terence levitated the pieces of parchment with a _Wingardium Leviosa_ from off the floor, and then glued them together using a permanent sticking charm. He brought the tortured essay, and Percy caught sight of Marcus' handwriting for just about a second. A small blush crept to his cheeks as he realised that Marcus' _x_ 's were far more superior than his own girly _x_. Percy filed that in his mind under "interesting but useless to know" and watched Terence ball the parchment back into a ball and he threw it—straight over at Charlie, whom looked over at them with a cold expression.

"Who threw that?" Charlie was obviously not pleased with this. "Perce, did you do it?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "You're mad! I would _never_."

Like he'd ever do something like that. He didn't care no matter how much he hated Charlie. He would not normally abuse parchment paper like this, especially when he was partially thinking about how bad or how good Marcus' essay was. He saw that the paper ball had just got to Charlie's foot, and made another mental note to take the essay into his hands and read it. He was curious about how Marcus Flint wrote an essay—abnormally curious.

"You did, didn't you?" Charlie's eyes looked nearly animalistic. "Tell me."

"I did no such thing!" Percy exclaimed.

Terence was smirking. "I saw him do it."

"You did not! _You're_ the one that did it," Percy's face was filling in with heat, and he actually felt so humiliated in that second. Two years ago, he would've had no problem bursting into tears and locking himself in his room for the remainder of the day. He pushed his tears back, trying to prevent himself from acting too childish. "Charlie! I didn't do it."

Charlie turned around and ignored Percy's calls. If there was one thing he detested, it was being blamed for something that he had nothing to do with.

He sunk into his seat, and spent the next sixty minutes watching them assembly and try out. The tryouts were horrific of course. There was a broom that exploded within the first thirty seconds of tryouts. There were several students being taken to Pomfrey, and they weren't even close to done yet. Marcus seemed to pale when a particular student did fairly poorly, so Percy had assumed that Marcus had bet for him instead of against him. Terence and Adrian seemed excited after a blond Gryffindor made a direct fool out of herself. Miles seemed to have lost his bet, what with the consistent swearing every five seconds. Whilst the tryouts were ongoing, a niggling feeling was in the pit of Percy's stomach. It twisted and turned.

He suddenly stood up, grabbed one of the brooms a third-year Gryffindor seemed to have and just flew up into the air, which could've made Charlie's blood pressure rise.

Firstly, Percy had barely been on a broom but he knew he was awful at it. Secondly, Percy, a Slytherin, was interrupting his Gryffindor tryouts. This was sure to spark a fire at some point. Thirdly and most importantly, _he was breaking the rules_.

He flew towards Charlie with a weak smile. "I did _not_ throw it," it was annoying him. _He hadn't done it_.

"Like I believe that," Charlie muttered. "You're trying to fit in with your new _Slytherin_ mates."

Percy was sure that his 'mates' were trying to tell him something now but he'd just pushed it aside. "I am not trying to—"

In seconds, Percy was knocked down by a large iron ball and slammed into the ground beside the parchment paper ball. Even though he was seeing stars, losing his vision and sweating profusely, Percy let his curiosity get the best of him for those few seconds. He pocketed the parchment with his shaky hands. The last thought he had before he slipped into an unremitting unconsciousness was: _this isn't as tragic as I hoped - at least I didn't make a fool out of myself by fainting_.


	18. Chapter 18

_as i remember the warnings, i will reiterate it just about once more: **isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**._

 _just as a second note, the abuse plotline is there for a reason. it is not just randomly there and is part of a much bigger plot._

 _there is something to be left desired in this chapter but i don't really know how to change it or what to do with it._

 _i want to take the time to mention that **every single bit of feedback** that is posted on this story actually makes my day._

 _now, replies to any inquiries:_

 _ **Ya0iLover:** i tend to update around Thursday or Friday every week, though this will probably be more frequent once my exams are over at the 12th of May. _

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

* * *

The first thing that Percy thought when he woke up after being hit with a Bludger was: _where in Merlin's name am I?_ The second thing he thought, as a congregation of extremely vivid (and highly humiliating) memories suddenly filled his head, was: _just brilliant. I don't even play Quidditch and I still got hit by those bloody Bludgers_. He ran his hand through his wet red curls. The infirmary was set to a temperature where Percy's body could only react to by sweating profusely to the point where it dampened his hair. At the moment, he was fantasising about taking a long dip in a pool made entire out of frozen pumpkin juice (a concoction that Bill introduced Percy to a few years ago. It was just about the best thing in the world, right next to a fresh copy of Giledory Lockhart's _Break with a Banshee_.) Percy managed to get his wand enough to call out a cooling charm, which was highly ineffective. He felt a sneaking coolness for a second and then it just disintegrated soon on after. This may be because of the fact that his hand was so clammy and sweaty that it was hard to grip his wand.

"Quite a nasty fall you took there, Mr Weasley," Nurse Pomfrey expressed, sneaking up behind him and noticing how his body was so sweaty that Percy's skin stuck to the sheets. "Do you have a fever? Let me check your vitals..." she took her wand from beside a desk and a hazy cloud formed just above his body.

"No," Percy murmured. "This room is fairly hot."

"That's not true," the woman was old as time, and had probably went through menopause. Of course, she wouldn't find this room hot by any means. She probably could travel to the sun and still want to turn up the bleeding heater. Percy tried to keep these thoughts to himself for a number of reasons, but honestly, it was how he felt. "That's odd. You don't have a fever."

 _"It's hot as basilisk balls here!"_ a voice sounded out, making Nurse Pomfrey look up with an agitated expression over towards Marcus Flint, who himself put Percy's sweating to shame. There were large patches of dampness underneath his armpits, and his pale cheeks were huffed with redness. He looked like he would just about to have a sunstroke.

Pomfrey sighed deeply. "It's these potions that I've been taking for this lewd ringing in my ear. I'll turn down the temperature now."

She disappeared for a few moments, as Marcus walked beside Percy, glaring at him as if he was the reason for why it was so hot. Adrian was slumped against Terence, looking close to fainting and muttering things about how disgustingly wet his hair was. On the other side of Terence, Miles buried his head into Terence's shoulder. This actually was funnier than it seemed because Terence was short and slightly smaller than average. Adrian and Terence were tall—still relatively short compared to Marcus, whom towered over them and was built like a brick wall.

Percy's eyes were on Adrian before. He had never really noticed but Adrian was uncannily a young version of Snape – long jet-black hair, paler than snow, tall and nearly too thin. It didn't happen that Adrian had a direct aversion to anything that wasn't black. The realisation made Percy's cheeks colour in and he looked away for a few seconds.

The temperature seemed to drop down enough that Percy no longer was bathing in his own sweat. _Thank Merlin for that!_

"The things I do for you!" Adrian exclaimed, walking towards Percy. "Look at this!" he grabbed a fistful of hair. "How am I supposed to fix _this_? It's horrid. Marc, I—"

"How many bleeding times am I supposed to tell you not to call me _Marc_?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. He obviously seemed annoyed. Percy kept his eyes on Marcus' face for the first few seconds before he pulled his hand down to his pockets, where he felt the ball of paper. He couldn't wait until they could go away just so that he could read it. It was still dry and somehow unaffected by Percy's wetness. "How are you feeling, Weasel? That's one fall you took there. If you plan on doing that again, make sure to let us know before so we make sure to get the cameras ready, alright?"

Miles stood up, gulping for air. Terence seemed unaffected by the heat.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Miles exclaimed. "People wouldn't stop talking about it afterwards. That brother of yours, the big old lug that he is, stopped the whole thing and insisted that we do it another day. You seemed to have worried Charles greatly, you know. His eyes must've jumped out of his sockets—"

" _Ahem_ ," Charlie's voice broke Miles out of his narrative. He was standing by the door, still dressed in his scarlet Quidditch robes. "Get out, Bletchley. Also, ten points from Slytherin for being a pain in the arse."

Miles offered a weak smile. Adrian walked alongside Terence, immediately starting to rant about something. Marcus hadn't left yet, keeping his eyes on Charlie for a while. There was some sort of silent communication going on there that Percy did not follow understand. They seemed to be staring at each other intensely.

"Weasel," Marcus sounded dangerously cold.

Charlie stared over at Marcus with a soft expression. "It doesn't have to be like this, Flint."

Marcus didn't say anything to that and just left, oddly he was pissed but he didn't result to physical violence. Somehow, Percy had just realised that Marcus rarely ever used physical force on anyone. He saved it was for times where it was more warranted (in Marcus' opinion. Percy did not believe violence was ever warranted in any situation) than not. It oddly made him feel safe around the dark-haired part-troll.

"What was that about?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. His heart beating loudly into his chest, because he could guess what it was about. He remembered the bruises around Marcus' neck, the ones he was trying to hide with his turtleneck (in _November_. That should've tipped someone off, shouldn't it?)

Charlie's cheeks coloured in. "It's nothing. You-you have to rest up, you know? That Bludger must've—"

"He has finger-shaped bruises," Percy suddenly mentioned, his voice throaty. "On his neck. I _saw_."

Charlie seemed surprised. "Perce—"

"I _saw_ them, Charlie," Percy's voice was softer now. "If something or someone is hurting Marcus, I have to know because Marcus is my mate. They all are, and I don't want anything to happen to them."

Charlie rubbed his neck. "Percy, you just got hit by a Bludger. You need to rest."

Percy's eyes were burning and were watery.

"Why didn't you see me when I had that- _that seizure_?" he suddenly blurted out, his voice was low when he said this, and he could feel his eyes becoming watery.

Charlie sat down beside Percy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Percy, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"I'm sorry too," Percy suddenly mentioned, his eyes wide with pain. "I'm sorry too," he repeated.

Percy slowly nodded his head and looked back up at Charlie with a softened expression and pain throbbing in his chest. They had both made mistakes. He'd made Charlie angry with how he was treating them after the hospital and he knew that much. For the next few seconds, all Percy could think about was the throbbing in his dodgy leg and the feeling of neglect burning into his chest.

"I didn't throw it," Percy suddenly mentioned, his voice soft.

"I know, Perce," Charlie insisted, running his hand through Percy's still damp curls. "I know."

Charlie's eyes were so soft that they were nearly liquid chocolate. Percy melted right in. He didn't know why but he could tell that Charlie was genuinely sorry and apologetic for what had happened. It had been a month since he'd left the house—just a little over. It didn't have to be this way anymore. "Let's just put this all behind us... we're-we're _family_ , Perce."

Percy nodded his head and looked down at the ground. He thought back to those bruises on Marcus' neck. How could someone do that to him? To an eleven-year-old? Even if it was Marcus Flint, it was disgusting.

"How do you get bruises like that?" Percy suddenly mentioned again, his voice resolute. "Like Marcus?"

"I can think of one particular way but you wouldn't want to hear it," Charlie noticed Percy's determined-looking expression and an eyebrow raise as if to say _Go on_. "Just go to sleep, Perce. You've had a long day and Merlin knows how hard that Bludger hit you—"

"Marcus is my friend," Percy cut Charlie off, eyes looking dangerously solid. "How did he get those marks on his neck, Charlie? Because you know. I know you know _who_ did this to Marcus. I know you know _how_. Please just let me—"

"He was strangled," Charlie expressed in a whisper.

Percy's heart was racing. "They did... _asphyxiate_...?" he repeated, breathlessly. "You have to be joking."

Charlie looked away from Percy's face for a few seconds, and Percy's eyes were burning with tears. The thought of someone choking Marcus to near death was horrifying. It was more terrible than the thought of being hit by a Whomping Willow, or being chased down a stream by a band of Aurors. It was more terrifying than seeing a manticore. It was just terrible, because it happened. It happened and everyone else was somehow going about their way, as if it didn't happen—as if it didn't matter that Marcus must've been terrified for his life before because someone obviously hated him enough to smother him.

Percy grabbed Charlie's arm, tugging at his robes. "Who did it, Charlie? Who hurt him?"

"Percy," Charlie called out in a soft voice. "Please, rest."

 _"Who did it?"_ Percy's voice was higher this time, and his eyes were big and blue. He knew that Charlie knew. Charlie told Marcus that it didn't have to be this way. "Who hurt my friend, Charlie? _Who did it?"_

Charlie bit down his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood.

"His father, Percy," Charlie admitted with a sigh. "It was his father."

Percy felt his head pound as he stared down at his long legs. The throb in his leg seemed to be insignificant. He sunk down to the infirmary cot, letting out a weak cry as tears ran down his pale cheeks. He wrapped the blanket around his small frame and turned to his side.

"Perce..." Charlie placed his hand on Percy's arm.

"This isn't fair," Percy suddenly spat out. It wasn't. He didn't know what on earth an eleven-year-old could do that was so bad that he ended up with that kind of trouble.

"No, it isn't," Charlie said before he bit down his lower lip. "But Marcus doesn't want any help."

Percy's head suddenly shot up. He'd wiped away his tears, and felt his blood sit still. Marcus didn't want to let anyone know that his father was so despicable as to try and asphyxiate his own flesh and blood?

 _"What?"_ Percy's voice was soft. "What do you mean that he doesn't want any help?"

"He wants to protect his father," Charlie shrugged his shoulder and then pursed his lower lip tightly. "Snape had a talk with him recently, but I don't think he's budging. He was pretty verbal about how it was none of our business. The Slytherin prefect and I tried to talk him into it in the beginning of the year. I noticed there were bruises on his shoulders. He'd admitted his father had been a little forceful in makings sure he didn't do anything doing anything particularly stupid this year. He'd been forcefully restraining Flint."

Percy felt a pang in his chest.

"Perce, don't get involved into this," Charlie begged. It was a big old mess and Percy knew that much but he'd die before anything bad happened to Marcus.

Percy just shook his head. "He's my friend," by default, he was already involved.

Charlie looked like he wanted to continue to discourage him but he also had given up entirely on telling him not to be involved. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry about not visiting you after the seizure. I really am... I talked to Snape about it if it makes any difference. I did ask about you, even if I didn't exactly visit. I know it might not mean much, but at least you'll know that I didn't completely ignore the fact that you had another fit."

Percy slowly nodded his head. He didn't think he harboured any anger towards Charlie at the moment.

Charlie's face lit up. "You promise you'll rest up? I can get you a ham and cheese toastie if you want."

Percy nodded his head slowly. "Thank you," he repeated. He knew under normal circumstances, Charlie probably wouldn't have told him any of this about Marcus.

A determination brewed into Percy. He was not going to let this old man hurt Marcus like this. Strangulation and forceful restrain on an eleven-year-old. _He_ brainwashed Marcus into thinking that it was fine, but it was not. Percy's hands were clutched so tightly they'd turned white. For the next few minutes, he tried to get himself to calm down. A few seconds later, the door opened. Percy was about to quip to Charlie that he was back abnormally quick for someone that hadn't yet taken his apparition test but instead, he saw Penelope Clearwater standing there, grinning wildly as she stared at him.

"Charlie came by?" she seemed excited. She must've seen him leave. "About time! I told you he didn't hate you because you were in Slytherin!"

She paused, and then anger made its way into Penelope's blue eyes. "What were you bloody _thinking?!_ Interrupting that Quidditch practice like that? How many times are you going to be sent into the infirmary? Merlin, I should lock you up in a room for the rest of eternity before you get yourself decapitated! I firmly believe that your so-called mates are going to land you in Azkaban at the end of this year!"

Percy beamed at her. "I'm ecstatic to see you too, Penelope."

THAT afternoon, Percy had been told that he could go home. He hadn't sustained any true damage from the Bludger. He did hear that some had been injured by Bludgers to the point where they were out for weeks, but Percy was glad he was not the kind to. He had done some of his essay. Adrian Pucey was sitting with him and talking about how much he fancied a Gryffindor, but he was too scared to tell anyone else because he was afraid of being laughed at. Adrian's voice was very soft when he was nervous. Percy had never noticed this before. He talked about his mum. Her name was Adrianna. He talked about how his father seemed to have disappeared out of his life, becoming nothing more than thin air. He talked about how much he hated Exploding Snap, and mentioned he had a fear of anything that made a loud sound. It was very strange. Percy had pulled out Marcus' essay to read after he was done with his own essay. He was stunned by how bad it was, but had pushed that thought away. He'd noticed that most of the page was just doodles, particularly owl ones. His doodles were even worse than the essay because Percy had spent about twenty minutes trying to decipher what kind of creature that Marcus had drawn before realising that the head-to-body ratio and large eyes were indicating it was an owl. Well, he'd deduced owls, but it was still up for debate.

Adrian walked to their dormitories, paddling along with Percy. He was over enthusiastic and talked often about everything and anything. Apparently, Adrian and his family had a long history of loathing any semblance of colour. His baby clothing had been black. His robes growing up had been black. His room was painted black. All women in his family, whether or not they had black hair, had charmed it black at some point. Despite the fact that Adrian did not have any particular aversion to colour, he had gotten used to having an only-black attire that he even admitted that he pretended to like the Montrose Magpies, just because their merchandise was strictly black. This led to Adrian making Percy swear that he would not tell another human being on the face of this Earth about this Montrose-Magpie-black agenda.

Percy offered Adrian a smile, because that was more polite than saying: _I don't really care about Quidditch_.

Adrian and Percy incidentally met up with Terence and Miles. Percy noted that they should probably drag Marcus out of bed. They did not seem to think that this was a good idea particularly because they'd _never_ disturbed Marcus when he mentioned that he was going to spend the whole day in the dormitory and did not want to be disturbed. However, there was _that_ feeling of pain entwining in Percy's stomach, thinking about Marcus. Even though Marcus' father couldn't apparate into their dorms and finish the job, Percy was still stressed about the whole ordeal—for obvious reasons.

He wondered if this don't-bother-me-when-I-spend-the-whole-day-in-the-dormitory business had anything to do with what Percy had just known.

When they'd wandered to the boy's dormitories, Marcus had just come back from the showers. The bruising that was there this morning had disappeared. Marcus was sitting there, barrel-chested. He had an enormous bone frame. His chest was at least a few centimetres wider than even Miles' and if Adrian and Percy joined their bones together, it probably wouldn't make up the thickness of one of Marcus' long bones. Percy, however, did not expect to see that beyond a _gigantic_ bone structure that Marcus had very little else. His thick skin was stretched over his bone, leaving gaps where bones were. His ribs stuck out prominently, and Percy could count every single vertebra on Marcus' spine. That... that couldn't be normal, could it?

"What are you looking at?" Marcus hissed over at a Terence that was gawking at him.

"You look like a thestral, mate," Miles suddenly mentioned. Percy had never seen one but from how they were described, he would say that this description was somewhat accurate.

Marcus' face fell. "I don't know how those look like, Bletchley but if I found it, it's something I wouldn't appreciate being compared to, I will find you and I will slowly kill you."

Percy watched Marcus change and he swore his heart dropped into his chest. Whenever Marcus inhaled, everything stuck out that much more. He didn't even bother wearing a pair of underpants before he wore his uniform and a pair of Slytherin robes. Suddenly, he just morphed from looking like starved and deathly skeletal to looking brawny and well built and... Marcus. Magic at its finest really.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, what are you all _staring_ at?" Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you going to put on some pants?" Miles joked, but it did nothing to quell the tension in the room.


	19. Chapter 19

_i've tweaked a little in this chapter. there was some wording i preferred not to use. i have to say this version in much more tolerable._

 ** _responses to any inquiries made in last chapter:_**

 _ **WolfSpirit1992** : thus far, i'm at around Chapter 25 and tweaking/editing/re-writing meticulously, but Percy and Marcus haven't had much of an interaction or a closed off scene on their own as of yet, but i'm definitely planning some form of it at some point. you're right about Marcus being the type to be very defensive. i think the next few chapters are literally there to drive that point across. in fact, it's practically hammered in this piece of writing. interestingly enough, when i initially wrote/planned the scene the first time around, i **did** plan on Marcus and Percy forming a closer friendship but these characters have a mind of their own and something entirely unplanned was produced. i actually had to re-write a lot from the original script because the plot went into a different direction than i had first anticipated. in fact, i've about 60 pages of events that i have to re-write because it diverged far from what i planned initially towards Marcus' abuse plotline. _

_**Phoenixx Rising** : yes! i'm glad you noticed that he didn't even mention them as friends until this. as for that blush, it's more of an innocent reaction catching yourself staring at someone after you've just compared them to someone you didn't want to compare them to, i.e. Adrian to Snape. speaking of which..._

 _to mention as a_ **GENERAL NOTE REGARDING PAIRINGS in this fanfic** _, as the plot i have planned and the events that occur are complicated enough on their own without having to throw in a pairing. there might be unintentional slashy undertones (though that's hard to avoid considering if you squint hard enough, you can find slash anywhere), but i don't have plans for a full-fledged slash. if i do any pairings, they are more likely to be canon pairings (i.e. Penelope/Percy or more likely since it's more canon, Percy/Audrey) if it comes to that because it'll flow more smoothly with the plotline, i.e. there's none of the "have to come to terms with sexuality" madness that will just make this fanfic more complicated than intended. **it is possible that there will be no pairings** , specifically because although i did not introduce Audrey yet, there's about a **6 year gap between Audrey and Percy,** with Audrey being older, in this fanfiction. this actually makes her as old as Bill. the age difference serves a purpose. another thing to note is that i am not sure how long i am making this fanfic, but the longer it is, the higher the chance that there will be a pairing. _

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

"That's impossible," Terence Higgs decided that early Sunday morning, as he piled on eggs on his plate, still traumatised from last night's pre-dinner encounter with Marcus. In fact, they were all some sort of variation of stunned—Percy was stunned silent, Miles was stunned from shock and Adrian was stunned in horror. Terence was so stunned that his whole body was numb. "Marcus can't look like that. _Marcus can't_. Nobody looks like that without a reason. It can't be natural. Nobody _naturally_ looks like they're going to fall over and die any second. They can't, especially not Marcus. _Especially not him_."

Terence and the others had been sitting in the Great Hall that morning, eating an eight o'clock breakfast. Marcus was nowhere to be seen considering his aversion to waking up before noon on the weekends.

"Listen," Percy Weasley suddenly called out, his voice down an octave as he buttered a bread roll. "I have procured some unpleasant information related to Marcus that I am trying not to think about, but it is extremely important and thus, I'm inclined to share..."

Percy put down his buttered roll, reaching for a jar of apricot jam. Terence wrinkled his nose, because who in the right mind would eat _apricot_ jam? "Charlie told me that Marcus' father uses physical force on him and from what I've heard, Marcus has confirmed it but insisted that nobody intervenes into his family life. If Marcus' father did indeed use physical force on him, then I don't think it's far from implying that he might have indulged in other means of child abuse, such as..."

"Starving him," Adrian mumbled, shaking his head and sinking down in his chair.

Terence could remember sitting in a compartment with Marcus for the whole of the ride to Hogwarts. Terence remembered nudging a bag of peanuts to him, and Marcus seemed to be in such a foul mood that he'd kept on threatening to cause Terence an oesophageal obstruction if he didn't stop. He remembered practically having to force down a few bits of almonds down Marcus' throat and even then, Terence didn't think he got more than eight. He remembered thinking that Marcus barely ate for ' _someone his size'_ but he pushed it away. He pushed it away because if Marcus really was eating so little, he'd look more like Adrian or Percy did. In fact, Terence remembered how scraggy Percy was when he'd first come round Hogwarts, but now, he'd seemed to have put on enough that he looked just about Adrian's frame. It was a little uncanny too how slender they were, because they both ate enough for the whole Slytherin table.

Last time Terence seen them in the Great Hall, they'd eat inhaled so many potatoes that Miles concluded that they were probably the source of the Great Irish famine. Terence thought that he maybe ate a bit too much, but it was nothing compared to those two lunatics, scoffing enough carbohydrates to prepare themselves for prolonged hibernation. He was pretty sure he once found Adrian and Percy in the commons, gripping their stomachs tightly after consuming a bad batch of caramel candy.

"I was going to wake Marcus up, you know," Adrian broke Terence out of his re-visualisation of Percy and Adrian sharing a bin and hacking up an intense amount of vomit... Terence was still hungry for his delectable bacon butty. "Drag him down to the Great Hall with me so he could eat _something_ before he bloody well collapses and dies, but Merlin, I'd have better luck waking up the dead."

Miles was poking at his poached egg. "What are we supposed to do _now_?"

He looked up, green eyes eerily frightened and lacking any humour. "I don't know about you blokes, but I'm considering nailing him down in his bed so that he won't go back home. Merlin knows that that's the only way to do it instead of trying to knock some sense into Marcus' big, fat head."

"It's none of your bloody business," a voice called out from behind Miles, making Terence's heart stop.

Terence looked up to see Marcus looking colder than usual. How could someone that looked so sturdy and brawly with their clothing on look so emaciated with it off? It really perplexed Terence, but also frightened him. Before Marcus even got a chance to sit down, everyone else seemed to have shoved their plates towards Marcus, whom just raised an eyebrow.

"I can get food by myself, _mum_ ," Marcus mocked, grabbing a mug which spontaneously filled with tea. He added a cube of sugar, stirring it in aggressively.

Suddenly, Terence thought of Marcus' mother. He'd met her before. She was short, curvy, and had large... err... _those_. She was attractive enough that he swore that Adrian was once gawking at her, large glossy eyes and all. Gross. She would have known that Marcus' father was doing this to him, right? She would've stopped it, right? It couldn't be true. It just... Marcus didn't actually look like _that_...

"Cut it out, Flint," Miles sounded suddenly highly furious. "We know. About what your father does to you, so cut out the dragon dung so we can talk about this. I'm not scared of you anymore. Hell, I'm scared of _Terence_ more than I'm scared of you right about now. You're so bloody pathetic that you can't keep your bloody self warm. Now, let us help you before you end up killing yourself in the process."

"Shut up before you say something you'll regret, Bletchley," Marcus warned smoothly, his voice ran like honey. He didn't even look the least bit enthralled yet, which Terence thought was surprising since usually, Marcus got extremely angry over much smaller things.

Miles stared at Marcus with a raised eyebrow. "I regret not noticing any sooner. We've been mates forever. It took Percy Weasley to tell us that your father—"

Marcus glanced back up at Percy with a cold expression. "So, it was you, Weasel?"

"You had _bruises_ on your neck. Shaped like _fingers_ ," Percy suddenly mentioned, and that thought made Terence's heart sink. Did Marcus really have those? How come Terence had never noticed that? The redhead closed his eyes. "What else was I supposed to do? I was worried for you and I don't regret that I've told them either. You need this intervention. You need _help_. It's—"

"None of your bloody business!" Marcus called out breathlessly, eyes darkening with every word that left his mouth. "He's _my_ father. They are _my_ bruises. This is _my_ body. It is _my_ bloody life. Don't involve yourself where you don't belong—"

"We are _your_ mates," Terence interjected all of a sudden at Marcus' flawed logic. "We—"

Marcus had been squeezing the mug of tea in his hands so harshly that it just broke, smashing into a thousand little pieces in his hands. Marcus hissed out in pain when the hot liquid hit his thigh, and his hands were cut with little red cuts. _"It's none of your business!"_ he slammed his fist into the table, his chest rising and falling dramatically with the intensity of his gaze.

"We—" Adrian was cut off by Marcus.

"I'm going back to bed," Marcus flicked his wand and muttering a _Tergeo_ , clearing the pool of liquid on the table when really, he should've been applying a cooling charm to his thigh, which was no doubt red and swollen from where the liquid had hit it. He stood up immediately afterwards, storming out of the Great Hall, but not before flickering his direction over at Oliver Wood and hexing him.

Miles didn't even laugh as usual when Oliver Wood screamed in fury over being covered in all kinds of boils and acne. He must've been upset, because Oliver looked in near pain from the amount of skin blemishes covering his body and face.

 _"Flint!"_ Snape's voice rang across the room. _"Detention on top of your other detentions!"_

"Good," Miles muttered in annoyance, before he grabbed a cheese and tomato toastie. He took a bite, and then said, "I say we owl my dad. He's an Auror and get Marcus' father under jurisdiction because I don't care what Marcus says. I don't care how much he hates me. That arsehole is not getting away with hurting Marcus, even if it'll take all of bloody Britain to get Marcus to admit he might need help."

Terence's respect for Miles just went up a few notches. He found himself brewing a mug of tea for himself.

Percy Weasley raised his eyebrow and smirked, "I'll write the official letter to send, mentioning the exact Ministry codes that Marcus' father is violating."

Terence immediately jumped into the conversation, knowing he had something else to contribute. "I'll drag him to Pomfrey in the morning and get her to have a good look at him. Maybe she could write something to confirm that Marcus' dad might be hitting him or something like that. She could also give him some sort of nutritional advice so he could put on a few bloody stones..."

"We could send that along with the letters that Miles and Percy will write up," Adrian tied it all up.

Terence snorted. "That's a _lot_ of parchment, but hey, it's all official and nifty. I like it. This could work."

"Better than the other plan I had in mind," Miles muttered to himself, and then let himself smile a humourless smile. "I was going to hit him with a Beater's bat until I knock some sense into him. You know, out of love."

Percy rolled his eyes and then dryly commented, "I'm sure that if Marcus ever ends up presenting to St Mungo's with a bleed in his brain, it'll be because you love him so much."

Terence had been eyeing Percy intensely. Why was he even there?

"Why do you talk like that if you're _eleven_?"

What eleven-year-old talked about bleeding into the brain as a consequence of a being beat with a bat? What eleven-year-old talked like they knew everything about the whole world? How did Percy even know half the things that he did or speak the way that he did? It was abnormal, because no eleven-year-old talked like this.

In fact, Terence was sure that this was Percy's toffee-nosed way of proving that he was better than them...which Terence didn't appreciate.

Percy's cheeks coloured in deeply. "I'm not sure what you're referring to."

A shiver went down Terence's spine, and he instantly changed the subject. "You still talk like you're an old man instead of a child. I mean, sure, I think we all— _well, Adrian, Miles, Marcus and I_ —have had those aristocratic parents that get you used to saying big and fancy words to describe normal things so you sound smarter than you actually are, but you're just... you talk like this all the time, and it's annoying. Because eleven-year-olds don't talk like this. _Nobody_ talks like this... except maybe Lucius Malfoy and I think he just uses them because he likes to hear himself talk."

Way to single him out. _Adrian, Miles, Marcus and I_.

" _I_ talk like this," Percy insisted. He didn't sound offended. He took another roll and buttering it heavily. "If you want to say I'm annoying you, then you could just say it without having to run around in circles. I could leave too, you know, but I thought that it's best not to start a squabble when Marcus just fled the scene in a dramatic fashion."

Marcus. Terence flicked his thoughts back to yesterday. Marcus seemed like the poster child for those children that had left You-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's dungeons, starved, frail and scared. Those children they kept in the ads of Pixie Puffs, insisting that every box the house would buy would benefit these starving children. Terence used to smile at the thought that maybe those children were eating Pixie Puffs that morning too. Maybe even with milk. How could Marcus, one of his best mates since they were young, look like one of those children without anyone noticing? Marcus was just always Marcus. He was not one of _those_ children that they locked up in shelter homes that tried to offer the best they could for children that were abused or neglected during the war. How could _Marcus_ be one of them? This was the same boy that had insisted that cheated on every bloody game of Quidditch and Exploding Snap that Terence had ever played with him, the very same one that sat outside the common rooms as he rumbled papers with badly written essays and the very same one that used to tear him out of bed late at night, telling stories in poor attempts of scaring Terence enough that he couldn't return back to sleep.

" _I_ happen to like it," Adrian interjected. By then, Terence had noticed that Miles was back to grinning that smile that told them that he was thinking of something mischievous, offending or dirty. "Stop whining, Terence. You're just pissed about Marcus and are trying to put it on Percy, and shouldn't because he's only been in our little circle for a little while and he was the one that noticed that—that _thing_ that's been happening for years that we didn't."

Terence looked away from Adrian for a few seconds. He didn't even know it was true until Adrian said it like that. Truth was he was more than just a _little_ jealous of Percy Weasley...

ADRIAN was leaning against Percy, trying not to fall asleep as Percy went through the hand movements for their charms. Adrian really was trying his bed not to fall asleep, but there were so many ways he could perfect his _Tergeo_ and _Scourgify_. Percy's _Tergeo_ was so precisely put together that Percy even knew how many millimetres of fluid his spell managed to siphon off. Suddenly, he felt a hand prodding at his side, and looked up to Percy's face, who was now only inches away from him and looking exhausted himself.

"Adrian, you're falling asleep," Percy mentioned in annoyance. " _Again_."

Adrian looked up from Percy's shoulder and offered a sheepish smile. "Is it over?" he suddenly asked, before he looked over at Percy's neat and concise scrawl. He noticed that they hadn't even gone through a fifth of the workload yet, and groaned.

"Percy, please," he begged. "Come on, let's do something else. Let's— _um_ , I'll share my chocolate frogs with you. I'll even let you keep the collectable cards."

"We haven't gotten through a fifth of this material," Percy commented, sounding highly annoyed before his face softened dramatically and he allowed himself to smile. "Do you have the white chocolate kind?"

Adrian nodded his head wildly. "I hoard them for you, mate. I think you're the only one that likes them."

Percy rolled his head as Adrian offered him one of the chocolate frog boxes that he had lying around. He should really stop keeping his chocolate frogs lying around his bag. Shrinking charm or not, it was just not a good idea. A few days ago, his bag dropped and all of the boxes open. He had about twenty different chocolate frogs assaulting portraits. For three whole days, he couldn't enter the Slytherin commons because that damned portrait was still sour about frogs hopping about their portrait.

Adrian was a messy eater. Within seconds, his frog ended up being all over his cheeks and chin. Percy took measured and nearly accurate bites, so much so that Adrian could _barely_ describe what Percy was doing as eating. Was he enjoying the food or just putting something into his mouth just because? Adrian always wondered because Percy didn't look like he gained any amusement from whatever he was eating.

Adrian's mind was rattling. "We've been mates for a while now, but I've never asked you about what happened when you ran off. I mean—I know you completely shattered your leg in the process, but I don't know how and I'm pretty curious about the whole thing. Entertain me."

Percy looked like he was assessing something in his mind, probably _to tell or not to_.

"Do you know that Ravenclaw, Penelope Clearwater?" Percy suddenly asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adrian tried to recall her. _Oh, yes_. He could see her clearly now. A bit of a chubby little girl with growing blonde hair—he'd heard great stories about the Clearwater hair, the hair that cascaded down into a golden waterfall. Pity that it was completely ruined now, and it looked like Penelope didn't seem to take care of it like Adrian did. He'd seen her between classes, once or twice, struggling with how many books she was holding. Her friends looked like they'd wanted to help, if only they weren't carrying as big of a load in their arms as they'd hurried over to their Potions class.

"Yes," Adrian commented finally.

Percy looked down at the frog; Percy had broken off a good part of its eye and was chewing it avidly. He swallowed before he said, "I think I saved her life."

"Think?" Adrian repeated. Normally, he'd barely believe these sorts of tales, but that was with people like Marcus, whom already over-exaggerated. Percy did over-exaggerate as well, but not about personal accomplishments as much as he did how well he could transfigure a pot into a pig. "I'm sorry. How in Merlin's name did you save her—?"

Percy cut him off to explain, "She was in the woods near my house. Lestrange was about to attack her. He was unarmed and had left his wand aside. I happened to pick it up and I happened to remember a few spells. We ran for safety, and my family seemed to cross my path then. After that, we encountered a manticore that seemed to think that he was very funny. Penelope was, yet again, unharmed. I ran before Bill and Charlie could take me back home, and procured this large gash on my leg. Instead of doing the practical thing and ending this wild goose chase, I continued to run with an injured leg. This, of course, exacerbated it to the point where I was taken to the hospital. I left the hospital to avoid a confrontation with my family, and stumbled upon a portkey that took me to muggle Brighton, where I was found by Lucius Malfoy."

Somehow, he'd said all of this under a breath and paused only for a millisecond before he continued, "Malfoy took me to be treated in exchange for information and taken the potions that I stole from Alec Lestrange, that—well, I forgot to tell you but when I did get that man into a bind, I did steal his things. It was highly impractical but I've seemed to be good at it. Stealing—anyway, he promised me back my things in exchange I steal something from my own father, so I attempted to. It didn't go very well and I ended up back home, and now, here we are."

It took Adrian more than a few minutes to let the story sink into his head. Did any of this really happen? Percy's facial expressions didn't even twitch as he told the story, and there was no incredulous looks or laughter. Adrian did not know why, but he did believe him.

He believed the redheaded boy that was sitting beside him, as they ate chocolate frogs together.

"I heard once," Adrian began after a silence seemed to encompass the room, "that Alec Lestrange trains manticores to their bidding using different potions. Some of them stay loyal to him and others ward off and become insane. It's kind of funny."

It kind of wasn't funny _at all,_ but Adrian didn't know what to say.

Percy nodded his head. "I suppose," he placed a hand on his knee.

"Does it still hurt?" Adrian suddenly asked, staring at the way that Percy had bent his leg. It seemed unnatural and he didn't seem to be flinching. Was this a position he took on to make the pain better, or did he bend his leg this unnaturally because no matter how he bent his leg, he was going to be in immense pain?

"Yes," Percy replied quickly, staring down at his dodgy leg. "Some days more than others."

Adrian swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly nodded his head.

He wanted to ask more, but Percy didn't seem to be the kind to talk about what happened. Percy was implying that he saved a Ravenclaw from the midst of serious, life-threatening distress. He had implied that he met one of the Ministry's most perilous wizards and hadn't painted him in the prettiest picture either. He had implied that he'd bypassed a manticore. All of this sounded ludicrous, but Adrian had not seen Percy as a liar. He was not the kind to exaggerate any non-academic accomplishments, and having have seen his long, thick and poorly healed gash, all Adrian could think about was that perhaps, Percy wasn't lying at all. There was a certain maturity in his eyes that would be explained by the things that he'd gone through.

Besides, Adrian wasn't fooled. Percy was a Weasley. _Weasley's_ —those bleeding Gryffindor lunatics! His mum had told him that once, at a funeral, they just happened to ' _lose'_ the body? They'd accidentally portkeyed the body all the way to San Francisco, and had a hard time retrieving it? Apparently, this was not an unusual recurrence. Apparently, this toffee-nosed Weasley relative named Muriel turned to his mum and said, _"This is the fifth time this year this has happened!"_ Adrian shuddered just at the thought of it.

"How long have you known the lot? Terence, Miles, Marcus?" Percy expressed, raising an eyebrow.

Adrian's cheeks coloured in. "Since we were little. We met by accident at one of the big old balls that the Malfoy's liked to throw, so we went there. We were supposed to stay quiet, so we _quietly_ snuck down to the kitchen late at night. I've never eaten so much in my life."

Percy shuddered. "Even taken into account how many potatoes we've had between us that night?"

Adrian's cheeks reddened even more extensively, so much so that they were now beetroot red. "Merlin, you should've seen the look on your brother's face when we were wobbling around, drunk off jacket potatoes. How many did you have? What was it? We had fourteen between us, didn't we? That night was brilliant, you know, before the grand upchucking happened..."

Percy glared. "I _still_ haven't gotten the smudges out of my school robes mind you. And the _caramels_ too..."

"It's not our fault that we hadn't eaten all bloody day," Adrian insisted, shaking his head and letting small tendrils of jet black hair come in front of his eyes. They'd been busy with something that Adrian couldn't recall, but busy enough that they hadn't had more than half a cup of butterbeer between them for some time. "And yes, I had even more than that."

"You ate more and you didn't implode?" Percy raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on Adrian's wrist. Their long, thin arms against each other – nearly identical in height. "I think I might have to take you down to St Mungo's and have them run all kinds of tests. Merlin knows what kind of metabolism you must have if you're going to eat as much as three giants and still look like an Inferius."

Adrian found this funny for several reasons. "You eat like me."

"I do not eat—" a sudden realisation seemed to hit Percy's head, and his ears had all but gone red.

"We share food, remember? Everything— _including_ fourteen jacket potatoes," Adrian muttered, poking at Percy's flat stomach."I think you've put on a few pounds."

Percy rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes, I'm the epitome of obesity."

When did he get to the point where he and Percy _shared_ food? When did he get to the point where he accepted that wherever Percy said was true, no matter how unrealistic that it was? Adrian muttered a _Tergeo_ under his breath, siphoning a small amount of white chocolate around Percy's mouth. Adrian was surprised to see that his _Tergeo_ didn't cause Percy to be landed into St Mungo's. Last time he tried to clean something off someone's face with a cleaning spell, he'd somehow ended up 'cleaning' a blood vessel. Adrian was just glad he didn't _accidentally_ give Miles a stroke.

What would he tell his mum then?


	20. Chapter 20

_this chapter is albeit less dark in content, and is more of a filler. the next chapter isn't very dark either (humiliation abound), but has a bit of a mini subplot so to speak!_

 ** _responses to any inquiries made in the last chapter:_**

 _ **chemical violets** : truth be told when i first wrote this, i **never** thought that Adrian would take center stage but apparently, he seemed to have a mind of his own! also, no, i don't think that your language is offensive. actually, on contrare, i actually enjoy it... i **did** laugh. oh, Perce._

 _ **Spirits in the Sky** : it'll be implied later on that they do know about Percy's escapade, but without a separate chapter on how they found out. ;) though it isn't hard to know that Adrian's the source of it._

* * *

Chapter Twenty

* * *

Oliver Wood poked his head into Minerva McGonagall's chambers after knocking a few times. He slowly entered the chambers, with a large stack of books into his hands and a pile of essays sloppily placed on top of the books. Looking very weary with big circles around his eyes, Oliver slowly stepped inside of her office with shaky hands as he looked down at his feet.

"Miss McGonagall?" Oliver called out in a squeaky, frightened voice.

"Professor," McGonagall correctly, putting down her quill as she gave a stern look towards Oliver. "I do not appreciate you giving me these essays late, Wood. What's the excuse this time?"

Oliver flushed darkly. "That's—that's _not_ why I'm here, Professor McGonagall... ma'am," he stammered, the flush reaching his ears. He debated placing the books and essays down on the table, but he did not want to make McGonagall more cross at him. "I haven't finished the last few, but I've—I've to give them to you tomorrow. Tomorrow morning. Is that alright?"

He offered a watery smile towards the woman.

"I will have to deduct a letter grade, Wood," McGonagall mentioned strictly, before she pursed her lips. They became a very thin line, and Oliver felt himself growing more nervous. "What it is that you have to see me for? I must remind you, for future visits like these, I would like to be informed before you simply barge into my chambers like I've invited you in."

Oliver slowly nodded his head, and then in let his shoulders slump. "I want to leave."

 _"Pardon?"_ McGonagall's eye twitched. "I'm not keeping you into my chambers by force, Mr Wood."

Oliver looked around, afraid that someone was there or someone was going to jump at him and laugh. His heart sunk into his chest just a little further and he pushed the tears that were bubbling into his eyes away.

"I don't want to stay at Hogwarts," Oliver suddenly mentioned, his eyes softened. He couldn't take the ridicule anymore, and he wanted out of this. It was very hard for him to learn anything. It wasn't that he was so lazy that he procrastinated or didn't care for his studies. It was that he spent all his time studying but the words just didn't seem to sink into his hard head no matter how long he spent reading about Bouncing Bulbs and getting smacked by them. He didn't remember a thing other than the fact that sitting there with one in his hand for hours produced a very worrying red mark on his cheek. "Do I just leave school? How can I leave? Would the Hogwarts Express take me back to the Glasgow orphanage?"

"Wood, you're taking nonsense," McGonagall called out. "Why in Merlin's name would you want to leave? You're not even halfway done with the first semester."

"I'm denser than pound cake," Oliver commented in a heavy Scottish tone. "I'm not...I'm not going to get better. I've spent three weeks trying to transfigure this stupid quill into a matchbox. I don't think I'm capable of transfiguring a matchbox into a _slightly bigger_ matchbox, Professor. Maybe I'm a squib."

"You are not a squib," was the first thing she stated. "I've heard from this orphanage worker—a Loretta if I recall correctly—that you've managed to morph yourself into a dog when you were living in the orphanage, Wood. By the way, it is _illegal_ to turn oneself into an animal unless they are a registered Animagus and it takes a lot of skill, practice and dedication. I hope you know what you've been doing with this. I will send an owl to Dumbledore to allow him to get the proper documentation you might need to register an as Animagus when you've turned of age. For, it can stay between me, you and the Headmaster."

Oliver flushed deeply at this and slowly nodded his head.

"You are not dense, Mr Wood. Contrary to that actually," McGonagall expressed, allowing Oliver to nod his head again and let himself feel just a bit better. At least McGonagall didn't think he was a complete waste of space. "Also, twenty points from Gryffindor for unintentionally breaking the law."

Oliver only grinned sheepishly.

"GET up, Marcus!" Terence grabbed Marcus' arm, and tried to drag him out of the bed before their classes started. He didn't know how Marcus could _still_ be asleep. He hadn't woken up since he returned back to bed yesterday. Adrian poked him just before they went to bed just to make sure that Marcus was still breathing. Marcus had essentially been asleep for more than twenty-four hours, and he still wouldn't wake up.

Marcus shoved Terence off, and buried his head into the pillow. Extracting Marcus from the bed was a difficult task most days, but it was particularly difficult after the weekends.

"Marcus," Terence's voice was soft, as he placed a hand on his mate's shoulder. "Marcus?"

Marcus slowly opened his eyes. This time, he didn't push Terence to the other side of the room, as he yawned heavily. In seconds, he took a look at the clock that rested on his table, and his eyes suddenly bulged widely. A rage encompassed his eyes. "It's five in the bloody morning!" he bellowed out, causing Adrian to groan in his sleep and turn to one side. Miles threw a pillow towards their direction. In the other end of the room, Percy was already awake and dressed, eyes buried into a book.

"I thought maybe you'd want to change and we can go down to Pomfrey together before breakfast," Terence said, shoving a clean pair of Slytherin robes towards Marcus, along with his uniform just underneath—the crisp white shirt, the black pants, the green-and-grey tie. Marcus' choice of shoes included dull black loafers and they were tossed beside his bedside, along with his school bag.

"You thought _wrong_ ," Marcus mumbled, looking down at his thick robes as if they were offending him.

Terence wondered what would happen once Marcus went through puberty. He didn't think so much testosterone should be enclosed in one person, but he tried not to think about it too much. That was years beyond now. Now, he had to make sure Marcus survived the next few hours with him and Pomfrey. "She's expecting you, and she even told me that she will write up an owl to your parents if you don't come."

"Blackmail," Marcus huffed, stretching. Terence heard something crack. "If I wasn't so pissed, I'd be impressed, princess."

Terence followed Marcus well into the shower room, which was empty given the fact that it was five in the morning. Marcus' glare told Terence that he was supposed to wait outside. It took Marcus approximately fifteen minutes to shower and dress into his school robes and uniform before they ascended upstairs that bright early Monday morning. The stairs were nice this time and Terence didn't end up losing a shoe or two. A roll of parchment paper slid out of Marcus' bag but he gave no attention to it. Terence would bet that it was an essay that Marcus was planning on rewriting up to acceptable enough standards.

BY the time that they'd gotten to Pomfrey's office, Marcus was losing patience. Terence was gaining apprehension.

She was waiting for them, not as happy as Terence wanted her to be. Before Marcus could suggest that he go back to bed, the woman had him pinned to one of the cots and had disappeared to get a chart from her quarters, and came back to Marcus with a quill in her hands.

It was then that Terence had wondered: _why was it so easy to get Marcus here?_ Normally, it wouldn't be. Was he secretly fed up with this too, or did he not fully wake up enough yet? Seeing Marcus rub the sleep out of his eyes, Terence had thought that maybe Marcus was simply too drowsy to get a good idea of what was happening right now.

"It's come to my attention, from several students, including your friend here, Terence, that you might be getting ill-or-mistreatment at home. What do you have to say to this?" Pomfrey asked, as she filled out details that Terence couldn't quite see.

Terence tried not to lean in too much. It didn't give him much of an indication for what she was writing, but it _was_ badly straining his back.

Marcus closed his eyes. "It's none of his or anyone else's business," he wasn't exactly so aggressive that he was spitting. "Damn Weasel told everyone, and now, I'm stuck here when I'm supposed to be asleep."

Pomfrey's lip curled. Obviously, she wanted to tell him to be more polite, but she refrained from doing so. "I was told here by some of the prefects that they had seen bruises on your shoulders from forceful restraint and bruises on your neck from what they think are attempts to asphyxiating you. Professor Snape had also mentioned that the first time you were cornered with questions about them, that you made up lewd explanations for them, insisting that they were pre-term Quidditch injuries."

She paused, noticing how bored Marcus looked like. "Mr Flint, I want you to tell me exactly what is going on, or I will keep on pestering you. We will send an official letter to both your parents and we will get them down here if you are not compliant. I need to know whether to progress or not—"

"What do _you_ want to know?" Marcus sounded incensed.

Pomfrey didn't react to his tone, and just began to go through the list of questions that she had prompted for him. "Can I see these bruises that everyone is speculating about?"

"I healed them," Marcus mumbled.

Pomfrey didn't seem surprised by this. Terence had wondered how bad they were. Percy had seen them before, so it had to be just recently that Marcus had learned how to heal himself. Probably because everyone was pestering him about it. "You've been recorded as absent for many classes. Care to comment on this?"

Marcus nodded his head. "I can't be bothered to get up."

Terence had winced when he said this, mostly because Marcus had a valid excuse for not attending his classes and he was just choosing to make it difficult for them to help him.

"What about your grades?"

Marcus looked up from the ground. His good will had melted and all that was left was annoyance. "I'm _part troll_. I'm _stupid_. That's why my grades are ruddy awful. It's got nothing to do with what he does to me."

Pomfrey had been writing something on the sheet. "Has he ever touched you inappropriately, Mr—?"

"No," Marcus immediately said, sounding disgusted. "Not like _that_. Never like that. He wouldn't dare."

Terence had cocked his head to one side. This was getting _nowhere_ , and he couldn't help but feel like it would end soon and Pomfrey would be convinced that nothing was wrong with Marcus. The thought of having Marcus go back home in the Christmas holidays was terrible.

"How many sets of robes do you own? School uniforms? What about parchment paper? Quills?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow at this. "Two robes and two sets of uniforms. One pair of shoes. I borrow parchment paper and quills from my mates."

Pomfrey nodded her head. "Do your parents send any owls?"

Terence tried to remember this. He did remember multiple occasions where a barmy-looking burrowing owl sending letters to Marcus on the table. He tried to remember what Marcus had done to them, but he was pretty sure most of the times, he'd shoved it in the front pocket of his robes, and told the owl to go away without bothering to give it any treats.

Marcus grimaced. "Yes."

"What were the contents of these letters?" Pomfrey asked. "And best you tell me, else I'd have to make it everyone else's business to get a look in at what kind of letters your parents have been writing."

"Idle threats," Marcus muttered.

"Idle threats?" Pomfrey echoed. "What do you mean by—?"

Marcus rolled his eyes, and then mimicked a high-pitched, squeaky voice, _"If you don't get your act together by the end of the semester, I'm going to break every bone in your body."_

Terence's run blood cold and he found himself biting his lower lip. He had thought that maybe Marcus had been lying so far, but he seemed to have mildly given into the pressure.

"And these are idle?" the nurse mentioned in a surprised tone of voice.

"He's got troll blood in him. What do you expect?" Marcus asked. "He could threaten to kill me and it wouldn't matter. I tell Higgs that I'm going to snap his neck all the time, but nobody cares about that."

"But you don't hit me," Terence mentioned. " _He_ does."

Terence suddenly staggered to his feet, looking up at Pomfrey with a softened expression. "Nurse Pomfrey, I-I have to mention that Marcus is so _skinny_ ," the words even sounded wrong coming out of his mouth. Looking at Marcus now, he looked like he could crush him into bits with his seemingly brawny built. "It's not natural. It _can't_ be natural. He looks fine when he's wearing clothes, but when he's not; he looks like a walking, animated skeleton. It's not normal."

Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at Marcus, whom just flushed into a deep red hue.

She put the chart away, and disappeared to get another chart. This one looked much larger than her older one and from what Terence had noticed was a _species_ specific one. Part vampire, part troll, part veela... she seemed to scribble on Marcus' height and weight after getting him on the magical self-calibrating height and weight scales. Pomfrey looked back at Terence and nodded her head, "Marcus, for your age, you are three inches shorter than the average height for your species, and are two stones lighter than expected for this height. Care to comment on this?"

"No," Marcus stated, before grabbing Terence's arm and pushing him outside with a look that told Terence that Marcus was not happy, and he was going to be in so much trouble.

 _DEAR mum,_

 _Everything is going brilliant. I'm not having a mental breakdown at all. Quidditch practice is going nicely, except for the fact that it's completely and utterly wearing me to the bones and I can insist that I don't want to do anything related to it in the future. I know why Percy isn't answering any of your letters. It's because he's too busy studying himself to death, or being a permanent resident into Pomfrey's infirmary. By the way, Percy might be a wizarding epileptic and if he is, then the old sods at the Ministry are going to lock him away into a death ward until he gets better. Also, Percy is in Slytherin and is insistent on helping Marcus Flint. Marcus' dad is abusive. Marcus' dad also has no qualms about killing Percy, and no matter what I do or say, Percy is not backing out of his plan. He's as stubborn as ever. Mum, instead of making him a sweater this Christmas, just keep him in a nice big bubble and keep him in his room for the rest of his life so nothing could happen to him. Please? Because this is just going to be as pretty as the mayonnaise portrait that Bill had made when he was heavily drunk on firewhiskey._

 _Love,_

 _Charlie_

Charlie crumbled up the parchment paper and threw it in the air. Mid-air, he _Incendio_ -ed it, and it fell to the ground, ashes to ashes. He muttered a cleaning spell so that nobody could know how he failed to write a letter to his mum explaining the absurdity of the situation at hand. He picked up another fresh piece of parchment and decided to get started one of his multiple essays. He thought of Percy that night. He had to practically tear him away from the commons and into his bed. He had paid Miles Bletchley in Charm Choc to tell him exactly what Percy was doing in his sleep. When Bletchley confirmed that Percy has been sneaking books, waking up at five in the morning and sometimes not going to bed until late at night, Charlie felt like he was going insane. He had no idea how Percy's body didn't give out completely.

He decided to go downstairs for a spot of supper whilst he tried to organise his thoughts.

As he piled his plate high with shepherd's pie, he couldn't help but glance towards the Slytherin table direction, scanning for Percy. He found Miles Bletchley waving with an egg in his hand (Charlie did not wish to know the context of this conversation), Terence Higgs trying not to laugh (choking hazard), Marcus Flint was toying with string beans and chicken breast in a disinterested manner (Charlie had no idea how Flint didn't collapse from malnourishment) and Adrian and Percy were sitting beside each other, both sharing a big plate of noodles. Adrian looked like he was trying not to laugh and Percy shot an icy look towards Miles and looked like he was about to _this_ close to throwing a hex towards Bletchley's direction.

Ever since Percy had come to Hogwarts, he'd gained the little amount of weight he'd lost during his expedition to the woods. He definitely ate properly, and Charlie thought that was because he was glued to Adrian Pucey for some reason (and Pucey didn't know how to stop eating for more than a three hour period). If Percy would put on a bit more, he bet mum would be happy. She would need something to be happy about if he was going to send her send her a letter describing these tantalising tale of events.

Charlie sighed deeply, scraping his shepherd's pie without noticing that he was eating. His mates were talking about something but it flew past Charlie's head.

When he was done with his dinner, he walked over towards Percy's direction. Adrian raised an eyebrow when he saw Charlie was walking towards him but said nothing. Percy seemed to be surprised as well. Charlie knew why. He hadn't exactly been interacting much with Percy. Their schedules were both chaotic. Beyond telling Percy to go to bed when it was late at night and dragging him from the commons to his dorm, Charlie hadn't seen much of Percy these days. He'd already skipped a few weekends of going into Hogsmeade, insisting on staying at home instead during the weekend to catch up on the studies that he'd missed. He knew that he was nowhere near Bill's impressive full set of O.W.L's but that didn't bother him one bit. He was interested in working in dragon reserves (he was slowly letting his mum warm up to the idea, a tip that he learned from Bill) but kept that wish to himself for now.

"I'm going to Hogsmeade this weekend," Charlie murmured, "Do you want me to get you anything?"

Adrian immediately perked up, "Chocolate frogs. And a sugar quills. Oh, and you might as well get Percy something, so I suggest you buy the white chocolate frog variety and one of those Glacial Snow Flakes."

Percy rolled his eyes. "No, thank you," he deflated.

Adrian looked distressed. "He's lying. He definitely needs chocolate frogs. And flobberworm mush."

Did Adrian know how _expensive_ flobberworm mush was? Charlie mused. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with a white, slimy mush except perhaps use it for his hair. He'd heard some girls used that sludge to make their hair extra shiny and long. Adrian Pucey seemed to have perfected that. That and he'd perfected sneaking into the girl's dormitory whenever the chance arose (Charlie had no idea how Adrian had bypassed the _Glisseo_ incantation that was put on the stairs, but he had. Multiple times.) He had been getting virtually no complaints recently, so he supposed that was Percy's influence.

Charlie snorted. "If that's all then—"

"There's _this_ one thing!" he pulled out a broken-looking watch from his pocket that Percy looked to have immediately recognised because he flushed wildly. "A bunch of Gryffindors Quidditch players broke Percy's watch—you know these that are charmed to remember dates. He mentioned it one to me but I could tell that he was gutted that these arseholes broke it. Maybe you could get another one?"

Charlie snatched up the watch, which was indeed broken beyond repair. He felt his blood boil. Gryffindor Quidditch player. As in on _his_ team. Merlin, he was making them wake up at three am next time for Quidditch practice, and he was ensuring that they stay in the pitch for hours after. "Percy, is this true?"

"Yes," Adrian and Percy answered in unison where Percy's voice weak and small in contrast to Adrian's annoyed and strong tone.

Charlie wrapped his hand tightly around the watch. "Who did this, Percy?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in, a rubicund hue coming to his cheeks. "Um, it's not important."

"Beaters. I don't know their names, but they're both built like a brick wall," Adrian murmured, before his eyes widened in alert. "I wasn't there when they broke it, but I was there when they kept on bloody picking on my friend, calling him all sorts of things. Just yesterday, they were muttering all this kind of bollocks about how my friend is a traitor to your name and said something about him being a Death Eater during the plight of the first war...when he was bloody _five_! Tell them to sod off, and leave my best mate alone."

Percy was beetroot red by then, as he cleared the lump in his throat. "That's enough, Adrian."

Charlie had decided that maybe Adrian Pucey deserved a few chocolate frogs and sugar quills after all. Charlie kept on clutching this watch, and staring at Percy's face. He seemed to look away from his elder brother, looking humiliated. "I'll be sure to remedy the situation."

Adrian beamed, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Don't get involved with Marcus," Charlie suddenly mentioned, voice filled with worry. He had to mention it at least now when he wasn't swarmed with O.W.L revisions. "His father will track you down like fleas and he won't hesitate to wreck your life. He's a very powerful man and you mustn't underestimate him... and he's a manipulative arse too. He's managed to get himself out of _murder_ _charges_ before, and will do it again. He's managed to keep himself out of Azkaban after the war. He is not afraid of a few children and their best intentions and if anything happens to you, Percy, then I will not forgive myself."

Adrian's smile had disintegrated by then and Percy looked angry.

"I _will_ get myself involved," Percy said, voice teetering with definiteness. "Marcus is my friend, and I can't just be sat there watching him be violently abused by his own blood and flesh."

Adrian slowly nodded his head solemnly. "Marcus isn't going to help himself. If _we_ don't do it, then who will help him? We can't just be sat on our arses whilst Marcus is being beat up for failing an essay."

Charlie sighed deeply and shook his head. "Adrian, Percy, I will repeat this one last time... do _not_ do this. I don't know what else to say to you. I've exhausted all the words in the ruddy dictionary. If you're going to go on with this inane cacophony, the least you could do is make sure that your names are excluded."

Adrian nodded his head sternly. "We'll be careful," he promised, and then whisked Percy away.


	21. Chapter 21

_**minor warning** : **explicit mentions/details regarding menstruation. yes. you read that right. yes, this chapter is an... interesting one.** also, it's well-implied in this fanfic that Penelope's mother is not able to take care of her, and thus, it's easy to assume that it's her father that did most of the 'taking care of' part so to speak and is a reason for why Penelope is completely clueless when it comes to menstruation. the problem is i wasn't sure how to word this into Penelope's point of view! i think she'd realise it later on when she's grown up, rather than now, when she's eleven years old and unsure of the idea of menstruation in the first place._

 _this is one of my most favourite chapters thus far. i feel like Penelope is a very real character, especially in this chapter._

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

* * *

"Adrian, no."

"Percy, please."

"Adrian, stop it."

"Peeerrrrcyyy..."

"No."

"I'll love you forever."

"No."

"Not even for three Galleons?"

"No."

When did _no_ mean _yes_? How did Percy find himself in this compromising situation where he was – Merlin forbid – _breaking the rules!_ And for what? To spy on Slytherin girls changing their underpants through a carefully designed key-hole apparatus that Adrian had made for himself. For someone that could barely transfigure a desk into a cat (a very deranged cat Percy would like to add), he surely had no trouble at all calling out a spell to make the keyhole bigger, but not big enough to alert anyone in the room. Percy had caught sight of St Patrick's Day knickers despite it being smack in the middle of November, and a pair of floral underpants.

This was _beneath_ him so much so. Percy shoved Adrian away to get a good look at the knickers one girl had on, and managed to let himself gape.

"My mum has better knickers than those," were those _puffapod_ underpants? Blimey, this lass would be a virgin forever. Wait, wasn't this the girl that made fun of his _patriotic_ choices of underpants? What bollocks!

"I know," Adrian insisted, shaking his head, keeping his voice low and below whisper level. "I come here not because I'm that bent on having a girl ask me out. I come here because of hilarious views like this one. Did you have any idea that that toffee-nosed Morgan doesn't wear any underpants at all? I'm bloody tempted to make a strange and unexpected swift wind pull her skirt up one of these days just to—"

Percy's icy glare was all that Adrian needed to keep that thought at bay.

"This is wrong. We should leave," Percy insisted, grabbing Adrian's arm and tugging him down the Slytherin girls' dormitory before they got caught. He had no idea how he was going to explain this to _Charlie_. He was pretty sure that Charlie would have to owl mum about this and mention that Percy's been sticking his nose where it didn't belong and discovering all kinds of new things, such as that the girl that Miles Bletchley had a crush on had very pink underpants. "I cannot believe that you pushed me into this."

Exiting the dormitory through the steps, Adrian and Percy immediately slid off the staircase where an irritated looking Charlie was tapping his foot, standing next to the Slytherin prefect, whom looked more disinterested than normal.

"What are you two _doing_?" Charlie hissed in annoyance. "Ten points from Slytherin."

"We were just researching," Adrian insisted, voice bubbly and ecstatic. "And Percy had to use the loo, and you know how the lavatories in the male dormitories look like. I'm pretty sure that I once saw a ghost follow me into the toilet."

Unfortunately, that wasn't a lie. Percy was surprised at how clean the female lavatories were. He was, however, highly startled when he saw what he could only term as a _feminine hygiene product_ , and a pair of soiled, bloody white knickers tossed into the trashcan. The smell of it! Percy was having flashbacks just remembering. Adrian had explained to him just five seconds ago that girls had these things called periods, and they bled a lot during. It was completely normal. Apparently, it had something to do with the fact that females could carry babies.

"When will you two learn?" Charlie huffed, groaning as he escorted them towards the boy dormitories.

"I'm sure that Percy's learned his lesson," Adrian snorted, snickering as he glanced over towards Percy, whom was strawberry red from how intensely he was flushing. "He'd caught sight of one of those female things that they use when it's the time of the month. I think Perce's become a little bent since he's seen them. Scarred him for life but seriously, what took you an hour in the bathroom?"

"I was disinfecting whatever that was," Percy winced in memory. "Why is it so _metallic smelling_?"

Charlie looked like he was close to vomiting, but Adrian was just laughing.

WHEN they'd gotten back down to the boy's dormitories, Adrian collapsed towards his bed, an ecstatic smile still etched on his features. Today was a _brilliant_ day by his standards, and he'd shared every waking moment of it with Percy Weasley. They'd gone to classes together. They'd had the same breakfast, lunch and supper together. They'd practiced enough schoolwork for the week together—and best of all; Adrian had finally pushed Percy into peering into the girls' dormitory with him. It only took weeks of incessant nagging. He did not regret it one bit, but he was sure that Percy wouldn't go there if Merlin himself had risen from the dead and planted some kind of forlorn treasure.

"Adrian, go to sleep," Percy begged, burying his head into his big, fluffy pillow and wrinkling his nose.

For the next few minutes, Adrian tried to fall asleep but he couldn't. A congregation of memories seemed to hit him, swirling into his mind.

"Percy?" Adrian called out in a whispery squeak, ignoring Terence's loud snoring and the way that Bletchley's breathing sounded like a cross between that terrible band, the Rhythmic Runes, and a croup slowly dying. Meanwhile, Marcus was grunting in his sleep.

" _Adrian_ ," Percy called out in annoyance. "What is it _now_?"

Adrian simply turned to stare at Percy with a longing in his eyes. "My father was an Auror. He disappeared off to do a bunch of missions years ago. I don't even remember where he went, but he hadn't come back since I was seven. Mum still complains about the way that he keeps his coffee on the desk. We both know she made it that morning and she pretended that he'd spilled it over the counter."

Adrian played with the thin sheets. "Mum likes to think that he's left on some sort of super secret mission and that he'll come back one day with a good explanation but I think... I think he just left."

A loud, discerning sound came from Miles' bed. Adrian would think he was dying if not for the fact that he'd heard this sound every night.

"Do I also sound like the lot of them when I'm asleep?" Adrian murmured. He'd _Incendio_ his own vocal cords if that was the case.

"Well, you make a sound that reminds me of this one time that George dislocated his shoulder," Percy offered smoothly, his voice weaker than normal. He'd probably been thinking about Adrian's father as well.

Adrian rolled his eyes. "You _wheeze_ when you sleep. Like Miles does."

"I do not," Percy insisted, rolling his eyes but Adrian wasn't deaf. He knew that Percy and Miles had a very nice cacophonous rhythm going on when they fell asleep. It was so bad that it was nearly funny sometimes when Marcus woke up in the middle of the night, asking Adrian to place just suffocate either of them so that he could get some proper sleep.

On another note, Adrian was fairly certain that if they all left Marcus alone, he'd slowly fall into a voluntary coma and not wake up for the subsequent century.

"Charlie is _not_ going to be happy tomorrow," Adrian mentioned. "We really should go to sleep."

Along with the watch that allowed Percy to save his essay dates for future reference, he had also been given a watch that monitored how much he slept throughout the day. Needless to say that last time that Charlie snatched the watch to have a reading, he was furious and had dragged Percy from his morning Herbology class down to his bed with a permission slip from Pomfrey. It did help that Percy was starting to make weird sounds that sounded a lot like Elvish.

"And if I were to go to sleep, who will cleverly finish the Charms essay I have—"

Miles seemed to be groaning in his sleep. "Would you two please _shut up?_ Merlin, they should've thrown you in the bloody Forbidden Forest as punishment for getting into the girls' dormitories."

Adrian flushed deeply, and for fifteen minutes, the whole room stood still.

After those fifteen minutes, Miles' troubled breathing seemed to fill the room again and Marcus' grunting seemed to be louder.

Adrian knew that it was wrong, but he couldn't help but think how troll-like it was that Marcus was _grunting_ in his bleeding sleep. Adrian, however, was very sure that trolls did not hibernate. This was just a special Marcus-like feature that no other part-troll other than Marcus had.

Adrian didn't hear Percy's wheezes, which meant that he wasn't asleep. If Percy was right about the dislocating-shoulder-like-sounds he made during sleep, then Percy should know that Adrian was awake.

The black-haired Slytherin tried to remember the last time he'd seen his father.

He couldn't really remember what he looked like...

"I wish I'd never left," Percy commented all of a sudden, his voice soft. "I wish I'd never made the mistake of leaving because if I didn't, I wouldn't be in this consistent pain. I wouldn't have possible wizarding epilepsy. Merlin knows how the Ministry treats epileptics. I might not have been sorted into—"

He paused, obviously realising that he probably shouldn't be saying this to Adrian.

"Goodnight, Adrian," Percy replied gruffly, whilst Adrian watched with tired dark eyes and nodded his head.

The dormitory was so cold and the blankets were so warm. It helped that Adrian's mum's first priority was to show him how to make sure that his blankets stayed warm during the colder days. He was so grateful for her, and would not replace her for anything else in the whole world. He was proud to carry the masculine version of her name. He was proud of where he was from. He wouldn't understand why someone had to run away, especially after his father did to him but there was no contempt in Adrian's lithe body. He just felt... _sad_. Sad for Percy. His mate seemed so little and alone in a big world where everything used to be black and white before he walked down a grey patchiness that didn't seem to end.

Just before Adrian slipped into a coma-like state of sleep, he found himself muttering, "I'm glad you ended up in Slytherin," This was followed by a yawn, and then, "Even if _you're_ not."

PENELOPE Clearwater was frustrated beyond belief, trying to look for Percy but seeing no signs of him. She had just finished reading one of the best books that she'd ever read in her life and she did not have Percy to share this astounding feeling with. Their schedules were so chaotic these days. She had found herself multiple times looking for him after a class that involved Ravenclaw and Gryffindor together until she had realised that Percy was not sorted into Gryffindor. Unfortunately, she kept on forgetting this multiple times throughout the past few weeks.

Penelope was not sure that she would ever remember that Percy was in Slytherin, so she made it her top priority not to forget.

As October had come to a close and November was beginning, Penelope began producing her little December project – a small scarf that she had began knitting. She knew that most Slytherins' parents would normally buy them scarves, gloves and other apparels for the impending weather but she was just about nearly certain that Charlie Weasley's major distresses included _not_ telling Percy's parents about him being sorted into Slytherin (she may admit that this may have required a little bit of eavesdropping on Penelope's end but her intentions were pure).

Penelope was being taught by a second year Ravenclaw named Holly how to knit and Penelope declined a few times but finally accepted her offer with determination in her short, chubby frame.

Her hair was fast growing, but it was not straight like it had been before. It was forming small, circular ringlets down to her shoulders and was showing no signs of growing any slower. There were people that were staring at it these days, almost in love with it. Penelope did not know what the potion that Lestrange had given her had done to her hair. Nobody in her family had hair like this, but Penelope was told multiple times that it was an improvement. A shy first year lad once told her that she had the prettiest hair in all of Hogwarts, which had led with Penelope being instantly flustered. She didn't know how to handle it when any boy complimented her.

She did find herself wishing that Percy would say something about it, but Percy was not the type to say anything. Penelope was not sure how much she liked Percy, but enough that she thought of him often.

Why couldn't he have been in Ravenclaw? Why was it so difficult for her to find a time where he wasn't with his friends, or wasn't going to class? It didn't help that it seemed like Percy and Adrian had been bound together and if one of them was away from the other for about five seconds, a big black hole would form and the world would cease to exist as they knew it. Penelope didn't know how to approach Percy with that fumbling uncouth friend of his tied to him. She'd already had the whole of Ravenclaw joking about how obsessed she was with Percy, but honestly, _he saved her life_! How could she not be grateful for that?

Especially knowing what Alec Lestrange did to those poor girls...

She would also admit that she might have a small crush on him, but she knew that he didn't return the feelings. Penelope was sure that Percy didn't even notice her existence most days, even more so now that he had his own friends and the lot that he was with...

Penelope heard that Percy and Adrian were caught sneaking around the girls' dormitories.

Was it so pathetic that Penelope was very cautious not to wear any comfortable and ugly looking underpants since she'd heard? Just in case they'd somehow made their way to the Ravenclaw dormitories? She had been trying to eat less, because her prettier underpants were so suffocating that she swore that it cut off the circulation down to her legs. She knew that she was being abnormally pathetic but she couldn't help it.

She _really_ liked Percy.

THAT morning, Penelope found herself glancing towards the Slytherin table where Percy was swatting Adrian's hand away from a stack of parchment papers. Terence Higgs was pinching Miles Bletchley and glaring over at him and Marcus Flint looked like he was planning to burn the whole castle down. Penelope, thus, concluded that this seemed to be like the normal morning. It was a Saturday morning, so there weren't a lot of students there. They usually slept well into noon.

Penelope found herself blushing when she picked up a jam doughnut. She knew that nobody was looking at her, but she felt rather chubby for wanting one. Her stomach was becoming softer and Holly said that Penelope probably had PMS, and was going to have her period, so she had this white thing wedged up into her. Penelope honestly felt like this was a prank but she'd seen older girls walk with big bags of whatever it was before. The one that Holly had given her said something like _Charmed to Get Rid of Any Blood for the First 12 Hours!_ Penelope did not think that was very smart, considering that if she did get whatever it was and the white thing cleared it up, how was Penelope supposed to know she had it? Unless she was the white thing for more than twelve hours...

Penelope pushed the thought away and chewed softly onto the jam doughnut, feeling fatter than she'd felt like in months. She couldn't help but be hungry enough to eat stodgy doughnuts in the morning.

Holly ate them too, but Holly was skinny _and_ pretty.

Beyond her hair, Penelope didn't really have any redeeming features like Holly did. Holly had pretty eyes, nicer hair and a nice nose, and every day, Ravenclaw boys seemed to be running after her and doing stupid things for her like carrying her books even though they also were carrying a heavy load themselves. Two days ago, they even fought about it and Penelope just stood there, feeling like an ugly toad of a thing.

Penelope tried to ignore the comments in her head about not being _deserving_ of a jam doughnut.

"Oi, Clearwater, do you really need a _jam_ _doughnut_?" it took a few minutes for Penelope to process that masculine sound did not come from her head, but came from a third year Ravenclaw boy that looked bloody pleased with himself for crushing whatever ounce of self-worth Penelope had.

Holly shot him a glare. "What's wrong, you twat? You're sad that she turned you down?"

Penelope placed the doughnut down after she'd taken a mouthful of it. She didn't think that she wanted this or anything else anymore. She felt herself crumbling slightly on the inside. At the same time, she couldn't just stop eating it just in case someone would figure out that she took that stupid comment seriously.

Holly placed a hand on Penelope's. "Don't worry about him."

Penelope slowly nodded her head and stared down at the offending doughnut before she took it and took a bite out of it. She couldn't help but feel ashamed for wanting it, or consuming it. Penelope glanced at the Slytherin table, catching sight of Adrian cramming a half-eaten jam doughnut onto Percy's face. A great big gob of jam covered Percy's lower lip, and the ginger shoved a laughing Adrian away. Percy caught sight of Penelope's gaze and his facial expression softened before he offered a beaming jam-covered grin.

TOSSING and turning late at night in her bed, Penelope discarded the stupid white thing that Holly gave her. There seemed to be no sign of blood, and she supposed that Holly was wrong for one about this sort of thing. Penelope glanced past the dormitories, her stomach cramping violently. She hadn't eaten since the jam doughnut incident and her entire body was screaming from hunger. She didn't notice much when she'd been busy but now, the hunger was burning something into her stomach and she could barely think of sleep. Her mind was conjuring up all kinds of images of having baths with cauldron cakes and pumpkin juice.

On her way towards the Great Hall, she accidentally bumped into Adrian Pucey. Penelope looked around, half-expecting to see Percy beside him somewhere but no, she'd happened to catch Adrian Pucey without Percy, which was pretty much the opposite of what she wanted.

" _You're_ Penelope Clearwater? What did you put in your hair? How did it grow so quick? Can I touch it?" Adrian called out in awe, staring over at the cascade of ringlets down her shoulders.

 _Touch her hair?_ Penelope's cheeks coloured in darkly and she shook her head.

"It's _so nice_ ," Adrian insisted, looking like he was about to fall over and faint from sheer admiration. In fact, she was pretty sure the last time she'd seen someone have this look was when they were talking about how they'd met a member of the Weird Sisters spontaneously when they'd been shopping for Quidditch supplies in Diagon Alley. "Hey, did Percy really save you from—"

"Alec Lestrange?" Penelope cut him off, feeling eerie. She hadn't talked to this about anyone, and she didn't think the first person she'd be talking to about this would be Adrian Pucey. "Yes. He gave me something and it made my hair grow long and it _suffocated_ me... if Percy wasn't there, I'd be dead. I'm sure I'd be dead. I know he doesn't think so, but I _know_..."

Penelope closed her eyes. She couldn't believe that she was telling _Adrian Pucey_ this?

"And nobody really knows it," Penelope huffed in annoyance. "Percy deserves some sort of recognition for being able to outfox a dangerous wizard, but he hasn't got so much as a bleeding _thank you_ note owled from the Ministry! It's disgusting. And his brothers—we saw a real live _manticore_ and Percy talked to it! He talked to it for a while, answered his riddle and when Percy got it right, the thing laughed itself to death. I was there. I saw it! It was one of the most terrifying things I've ever seen in my life..."

Penelope crossed her arms over her chest.

"Alright," Adrian looked at her with a stunned expression and slowly nodded his head. "I believe you."

Adrian's eyes softened slightly. "He's in pain, so I've dragged him down so Pomfrey could get a right look at him. That leg is butchering my best mate's life. Pomfrey kicked me out. Says she was too tired of seeing me every time I brought him in."

Penelope's heart softened slightly. Percy was in _pain_? How did Adrian know? Did Adrian not sleep?

"What's that?" Percy said, looking terrified as he exited Pomfrey's door. His eyes were relatively bloodshot. "It smells like... oh, that Godric-awful _smell_..."

Penelope looked down and noticed that the front of her skirt was stained with fresh blood. Percy paled and looked close to fainting. Adrian looked like he wanted to laugh, but kept it at bay.

" _Tergeo_ ," Adrian called out, waving his wand and calling out the spell perfectly (similarly to most of her peers actually), but the liquid didn't seem to want to slop off. "Oh, Merlin... Perce? Where'd you go, you bleeding coward?"

Percy left Pomfrey's room again (when did he go inside again?) with a white pad in his hands, flushing.

Penelope, on the other hand, genuinely wanted to curl up and die in that very second. She was riddled with the utmost level of humiliation. She immediately grabbed the white thing into her hands, and ran back into the Ravenclaw dormitories where she grabbed a rather big pair of unattractive knickers with patterns of Ice Mice on them that kept her bottom cold in warmer weathers. She ran down the hallway, past Percy and Adrian again, whose eyes seemed to be glued onto her awful choice of underpants.

By the time she'd gotten down to the commons where it was empty (the girls' dorms' toilets were not and Penelope thought this would be less embarrassing – she was wrong), she'd curled up against the stall and wept so hard that her thighs started to shake.


	22. Chapter 22

_this is **a very high-school-fanfiction cliche-type chapter** where one "evil" antagonist recruits someone to do their bidding for some reason or another. i tried to rewrite this chapter, but honestly, i don't know where to start and i think my editing capacities have fallen flat and reached to maximum effort. i do like what the small bit says about Oliver Wood. i'll just take it as it is and leave you chuckling at the absurdity of the subplot. in other news, it's also one of the longest chapters i've produced thus far, mostly to try and duffise the cliche-ness of the plot. ah, as long as it's not a **main** plot, i'm not too fussed._

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Chapter Twenty-Two

* * *

Terence knew that this was pitiful – beyond pitiful – but he couldn't shake the avid jealousy and hatred he had of Percy Weasley. He seemed to nuzzle into this nice little nest that he'd made for himself with his mates in no time at all. It didn't help that Terence did not talk to Adrian at all anymore, because he was glued to Percy. Those two did not do anything without each other and it was ridiculous. They ate the same foods, and did the same amount of homework. Adrian even had the bollocks to tell Terence to give him tips about how to transfigure a quill into a matchbox! Really? Terence wouldn't be surprised if Adrian invited himself over towards the Weasley household for Christmas just so he wouldn't be away from his _precious_ Percy Weasley.

How did that redhead even fit into their lot? He was nothing like the rest of them...

And why did they even give a rat's arse about Percy's leg? He brought it on himself, so why was it so sad that Percy was in consistent pain? Terence felt like he was faking it a numerous amount of times, but he couldn't say anything for Adrian would probably toss Terence to the wolves _despite_ the fact that Terence, Adrian, Marcus and Miles had been friends for literally forever. How did Weasley end up being a part of their little friendship circle? Percy Weasley was not worthy of it.

He tapped his fingers against the book that he'd borrowed from the library, trying not to glance over at the table just next to him where Percy and Adrian were exchanging Herbology notes.

Adrian was _taking notes_ in Herbology now.

His friend was far gone.

If Adrian spent more time with Percy, then Terence wouldn't be surprised if his friend would suddenly sprout a few freckles, and have his dashing black hair turn into the dull red mandrake roots that Percy Weasley somehow passed off as hair. Terence was also pretty sure that they were wearing each other's robes, not like anyone could tell but he did recall that Adrian's robes were a little shorter than Percy's but now, they seemed to be the opposite.

 _Sharing robes?_ What next?

 _Underpants?_

A few minutes later, Terence exited the library, fuming.

"Do my eyes deceive me or did Terence Higgs just leave the _library_? What's wrong? Lost your way to the dorms? Snape decided to scare you so he made you look at a book and Merlin forbid... _read the title_?" Miles joked before he shook his head.

"Nothing," Terence murmured in annoyance.

Miles' eyes lit up as he ran his hand through his shaggy blonde locks. "Let me guess, you've been following the flea and the Greek God again, aren't you?"

"He is _not_ a Greek God," Terence mumbled. "And I don't believe that bollocks Adrian spat out about what he did with Alec Lestrange and that manticore. He weighs as much as a Flitterby for one! And I think that he looks like one too—Merlin, I loathe him, I loathe him, _I loathe him_."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Come on. He isn't that bad."

"Are you sure that he doesn't spike Adrian's juice with love potion?" Terence hissed out in cold annoyance.

Miles whistled, raising an eyebrow. "That's a claim to make. Adrian can smell Amortentia a mile away. According to him, it smells like himself—oh, that arrogant little git."

Terence knew how bitter he sounded like but he couldn't help it. He kept on peering at whatever they'd been doing and trying to detach themselves from them, but in reality, he wanted to include himself with them as much as possible. He wanted to know what was so bleeding special about Percy Weasley that Adrian had practically abandoned most of his other mates to hang out with him. Nothing was the same now. Marcus still hated him for dragging him to Pomfrey, and Miles was the only person that Terence bothered interacting with these days. How did Percy manage to do this to a five-year friendship?

"Did you have a look at Marcus this morning?" Miles suddenly mentioned, raising an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure he's lost weight. I could see his bleeding ribs through his robes."

Terence looked beyond surprised. "Marcus doesn't _have_ any weight to lose."

"Yet he still somehow found weight to lose," Miles murmured in seriousness, before shaking his head. "Pomfrey looked surprised. Apparently, she'd been calling him in between classes to feed him this nutritional potion but apparently, he needs to have eaten something in the last twelve or so hours for it to work. Apparently, she'd deduced – given that she gives it to Marcus about twice a day – that he doesn't bother eating at all now that he's been drinking that Merlin forsaken thing."

Terence swore he could feel his eyes bulge out of his sockets. "Did you talk to Marcus about it?"

"Yeah right," Miles looked agitated before he snorted. "Like _that'll_ help. The minute I mention anything related to his father, Marcus leaves the room as if I've committed some kind of cardinal sin. I've sent the letters to my dad and I'm waiting for a reply but this could all go to hell very quickly."

"Marcus is killing himself," Terence rolled his eyes. He couldn't help but feel the resentment brewing in his veins. "Meanwhile, Ares and Aphrodite are busy with their Herbology notes."

Aphrodite was, doubtlessly, Pucey himself. Ares was Weasley, considering that all he'd done since he'd walked into the Slytherin dungeons was wreck havoc. From trying to steal Zeus' lightning bolt (and butchering the common rooms in the process) to 'cutting off Medusa's head' (saving Penelope from her own snake-like hair) to disbanding Terence's band of mates, it seemed to be the most fitting nickname that Terence could think of without it being too obvious that he loathed Percy Weasley enough that he would gladly throw him off the Astronomy tower if not for the fact that he might somehow come back as a Hogwarts poltergeist and haunt his every waking moment.

"That is _not_ fair," Miles insisted, raising an eyebrow. "Ares is the reason we know about what's happening to Mars, alright?"

Roman Gods. Greek Gods. Oh my.

Why was it that everyone seemed to be under the spell from this metaphorical love potion that Percy seemed to be waddling around with? What was so brilliant about him? All he did was whine about how much work they had to do and sit down with his leg bent in a way that made Terence think that Percy was purposely trying to make his pain worse than it was. Bloody attention-seeking maggot.

"Whatever," Terence muttered because he did not have a good argument to that.

TERENCE put his small hands into his pockets and walked down the corridor, where he noticed that a brown-haired athletic Gryffindor was leaning down to the ground... _Oliver Wood_. He was trying to gather around a stack of essays that seemed to have fallen into a chaotic heap on the floor. When Oliver tried to pick up the first few, they fell back down along with the textbooks that he'd been holding. Portraits laughed and a sigh escaped Oliver's lips. A bunch of Gryffindors walked by and didn't pause to help him.

Terence found himself slowly leaning down and gathering Oliver's essays, noticing his untidy scrawl and how overdue these were. How did Wood get _extensions_ on essays? He bet if he fractured all his bones, Snape wouldn't give him an hour's extension to the deadline. Wood seemed to have month-long extensions to deadlines. Typical privileged Wood.

Terence offered the stack that he'd collected and Oliver took them graciously.

"Thanks," Oliver said in a low voice before standing up again and turning to walk away.

Terence's heart hammered in his chest for a few seconds. "Wait. Stop. Before you go, you—"

Oliver paused and turned back to face the Slytherin with a bewildered expression etched upon his features.

"You don't like Percy Weasley," Terence said. It was a statement rather than a question.

Oliver replied by slowly but surely nodding his head.

"I don't," the Scot's voice lacked any confidence. He looked lean and athletic, but seemed to carry himself the way that Adrian or Percy did, i.e. like a bunch of droopy strings that could be snapped at any given moment. He could stand tall and look intimidating but just chose not to. This perplexed small and lithe Terence, whom had attempted to look intimidating multiple times but failed.

"What's it to you?" Oliver suddenly expressed.

Even his last statement didn't harbour any dislike. He sounded like he was whispering to himself.

"I don't like him either," Terence insisted, smiling weakly over at Oliver, whom raised an eyebrow. "I thought that maybe we could come up with a little prank of our own..."

"Prank?" Oliver reiterated as if he did not know the meaning of the word.

"Well, aren't you tired of seeing him smug and bloody proud of himself for no reason?" Terence articulated in an unwavering tone of voice, "I mean just a while ago, people put him on a _bleeding throne_!"

"And you want to prank him?" Oliver repeated again, thin eyebrow arched. Any rosiness in his face seemed to be amplified by his nervous flush.

"Don't you?" was Terence's only inquiry.

Oliver cleared the lump in his throat. "Well... well..."

"Don't you?" Terence repeated this statement in a higher and sterner manner.

Oliver shook his head. "If I end up being made a right arse of at the end of this—"

"No," the Slytherin replied in a stern voice. "Trust me. This is not going to end up with you being at the receiving end of this joke. I want to completely and utterly humiliate Percy Weasley."

Oliver cleared his throat. He seemed to be deliberating on the thought for a while. Oliver's grip on his textbooks seemed to be so strong that his knuckles had turned white. "No."

"You're a coward for a Gryffindor," that usually just about did it. Terence had long ago noted that Gryffindors normally couldn't stand being called cowards. They'd rather do whatever Terence implored them to do.

Oliver simply looked stunned instead of insulted.

 _"What?"_ Terence began. His voice was still unyielding and adamant. "Are you going to stand around there, moping and wishing that he'd strike himself with a bolt of lightning next time he has a fit or are you _actively_ going to do something about it?"

Oliver looked like he was debating the thought again.

Terence just needed one more push. "We aren't going to kill him, lad. We're just going to embarrass him a little... Don't get your old lady knickers in a twist. Call it harmless fun."

"How..." Oliver paused for a second, looking like he was rolling the thought in his mind again. He looked like he was coming to a conclusion, "How harmless is it?"

 _Bingo_.

SIGHING deeply, Miles shoved the plate towards Marcus for the fifth time that hour, only for Marcus to throw him a glare as he sipped through his small amount of tea. You'd think that Miles was trying to get him to do something impossible instead of getting him to shove something down his gob.

"Marcus," Miles swore that he had an aneurysm ready to burst. "If you don't ruddy well eat this, I will shove it down your throat. You don't scare me, you big old bag of bones."

Marcus looked away from Miles, curling up on his bed. How could anyone subsist on only tea?

"It's your favourite," Miles took the toastie into his hands and then broke one of the triangles into bits, to show what was inside. "Look at that? Tuna salad... and look, I've even had the house elves make your chips with cumin like you like. Took me forever to tell them _exactly_ how you like it too. Crispy on the outside, and soft on the inside."

He placed that bit down and shoved the plate towards Marcus.

"I've even gotten you some sugared butterfly wings," Miles perked up, happily grinning. "I've even bought a jar of a bourbon biscuit spread so you could spread it on them. Bloody hell, I'll even eat them with you even though I absolutely despise bourbon biscuits."

Marcus' eyes did not deter from the window, where he seemed to be transfixed on the quiet and tranquil scenery.

"Marc, you're scaring me," Miles honestly said, his voice soft. "Come on. Eat _something_."

Marcus looked down at the plate and pushed it away. He looked down at the bed, pursing his lips together tightly. Another sigh escaped Miles' mouth but honestly, it was true. Marcus would die if he didn't eat anything and Miles didn't know how long anyone could subsist on only tea and nutritional potions.

"It hurts," Marcus mentioned, voice flat.

Miles looked up from the bed, raising an eyebrow towards his black-haired mate. "What?"

"He charmed it so whenever he's angry, my teeth start to hurt. He thought it was ruddy hilarious. Thought he was giving my 'big ugly damned teeth' a purpose. And when he's angrier, it makes me want to bloody kill myself. He's part troll too. He's always pissed, and when he's really fuming..." Marcus shook his head, playing with his bed sheets. "I can't find a spell or a potion to make it go away. The tea helps. The toothache I mean. It's—and if you tell anyone I've ever used this word, I will know, Bletchley— _soothing_."

Miles looked surprised. "He did _what_?" he hissed. "That sodding bastard."

"Bletchley..." Marcus threw him a look, playing with the rim of his cuppa. "Don't make me _Obliviate_ you."

Miles only offered a soft smile before leaning forward and placing a hand on Marcus' shoulder and squeezing it in comfort. It was eerie seeing Marcus like this.

"Why the bloody hell didn't you say anything before, you rotten toerag?" Miles announced, infuriated. Merlin, he was just glad Weasel mentioned something. Else, he didn't know how long this would go on before someone noticed. "We could've done something before—"

Marcus stared back at Miles with a raised eyebrow. "Bletchley, if I eat something, will you shut up?"

"Thought you had a bad toothache, Flint," Miles teased.

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Nothing is as painful as hearing you talk, Bletchley," he grabbed a bit of the toastie that had already been halved and subconsciously started to tear off the crusts before he took a mouthful.

"I DON'T know about this," Oliver said, feeling hesitant about the plan that Terence had cooked up for them. He did not like Percy, but this didn't seem like _harmless fun_. It seemed a bit too extreme for his liking, and a ball of nervousness was sitting in his belly as they walked down to the Great Hall.

If Charlie ever found out about this, he'd sterilise him. Wandlessly.

Oliver caught sight of Percy standing beside Adrian, both animatedly talking about something. They always seemed to do that and it was uncanny how close those two were. They had no personal space to speak of and it left Oliver feeling uncomfortable. After only a week of the school year starting, those two had seemingly become inseparable. They shared _everything_ in a way that made Oliver feel uneasy. He was pretty sure they shared parchment and quills, books, cloaks and food relatively often. He was not sure if they shared any personal hygiene products or any underpants and did not want to figure out if they did.

"You're not _that_ bad on a broom, mate," Adrian insisted, shaking his head.

Oliver caught sight of Percy on a broom a few times. Oliver could only assume that a centaur had better coordination on a broom than Percy Weasley did.

Percy rolled his eyes. "I might fail Flying. I'd be the only one in all of Hogwarts that would fail _Flying_."

"I'm terrible on a broom too," Adrian insisted in a soft voice, only for Percy to shoot him a glare that was so cold that it could turn fire to ice.

"Madame Hooch told me that she thinks that you'd be a fine Chaser. You are not terrible on a broom. On contrary, I think you're bloody brilliant on a broom," Percy sounded highly irritated, as he rubbed his dodgy leg and leaned against the wall.

"What are you looking at?" Terence's voice took Oliver out of his reverie. They stood at the end of one of the long Hogwarts corridors, next to a portrait that seemed to be in eternal sleep. What was that useless thing doing hung up there anyway? It was always asleep, and _never_ gave any comments, not even snide remarks about how his appearance like some portraits did. "Come on. Let's just get this into action."

"I'm not sure about this," Oliver was highly uneasy.

Terence raised an eyebrow at Oliver as if he was speaking nonsense. "Do you believe that the pain in his dodgy leg is _real_?"

Oliver glanced back at the way that Percy was standing, leaning away from his dodgy leg and into his good one. He didn't look to be in terrible pain. Oliver did not recall seeing Percy look like he was in pain from his leg. He did not clutch his leg in pain, or skip classes because the pain was too great. He did not seem to draw any attention to it unless someone else did. It made Oliver wonder if this was all a guise, but at the same time, what if it was real? If it was _real_ , and they did this...?

Oliver vehemently shook his head, but a stone was settling in his stomach.

"I'll talk and you spike his tea with this potion," Terence muttered, moving to give Oliver a phial containing what seemed to be very violent purple-coloured sludge.

Terence told Oliver that it amplified whatever physical pain the drinker felt. It didn't alter the drink's taste. Oliver tried it before and felt nothing. Then Terence stubbed his toe and had him drink it again. The dull ache in his toe turned to a stabbing, jagged pain. If Percy really was in horrible pain, then this would dial it up to unfathomable extents. Oliver did not think that such potions were allowed to be brewed in Hogwarts. Still Terence seemed to have no problem acquiring it, but not only was Terence in Slytherin, but he had glowing grades in Potions.

"This isn't a prank," Oliver murmured, grabbing the phial from Terence. "And it's not funny."

Oliver had a look over at Percy and Adrian, whom were laughing nonsensically about something, before he shoved back the potion towards Terence and shook his head. He would not be influenced by a Slytherin and he would not go through with this. This was beyond a harmless prank. This was a dam waiting to break. This would backfire, and Oliver could feel disaster waiting to spur. Oliver did _not_ want to be a part of it.

"You have a twisted idea of humour, mate," was all that Oliver said before he turned to the Great Hall.

DINNER was a tragic event. Terence had laced the tea himself, though it would be much, much easier if Oliver had done it without anyone else looking. Everyone's eyes seemed to be on Terence that particular night, especially since he'd been glowering and complaining for days. Everyone seemed to expect him to continue moaning on about— _well, just everything under the sun_.

He seemed surprised to see Marcus walking down to the common room table. He hadn't come down here for days, and whenever he did, he existed on nothing more than—

Just before Terence could finish the thought, Marcus swiped the cuppa from Terence's hand.

"Thanks, Higgs," Marcus snorted.

"I thought he made that for _me_ ," Percy motioned with an arch in his eyebrow. Terence wanted nothing more than to swipe that tea from Marcus and give it to Percy.

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Make your own, Weasel. Your leg is mucked up, but not your arms."

He turned to stir in a sugar cube, before adding a good amount of milk. Terence's stomach lurched but he didn't know what to say. All he could hope for was that Marcus did not feel any pain anywhere. Else this would be terrible—

Marcus took a mouthful of the tea and immediately, dropped the mug. His face had turned pale. In seconds, he brought his hands to his mouth. His eyes were watering and his arms were shaking.

"Marcus?" Terence called out in concern.

Marcus stared over at Terence with weary, dark eyes. He looked betrayed and slightly dejected for a few seconds before it melted... and then he lunged, attacking his lithe friend.

CHARLIE Weasley grabbed Marcus Flint by his frame and pushed him off Terence Higgs, whom seemed to be sporting a large black-eye and a multitude of bruises on his face. Terence was whimpering, looking like he was in a strong amount of pain and Marcus looked like he was in absolute turmoil.

 _"Calm down, Flint!"_

"What is going on here?!" McGonagall seemed to wander towards them with a stern look on her face. She looked surprised at Marcus' sudden outburst, and honestly, there wasn't a student in the hall that wasn't looking at the spiff that had happened between the two. "Mr Flint—"

"Get off me!" Marcus exclaimed, hands into fists as he tried to hit Charlie square in the chest. For someone as emaciated and bony as he was, Charlie was surprised by how hard he could hit. He was pretty sure that the area that Marcus had been hitting him in was going to be significantly bruised later on. The hit only made Charlie grip tighter, refusing to let go of him.

Marcus dug his shiny black loafers into Charlie's muscular thigh. _"LET GO!"_

"Flint, come down to my quarters," Snape suddenly said, voice full of alert and aggression. " _Now_."

Marcus cried out in pain, nearly screaming in agony before he stuck his hand into his mouth and forcefully tore out one of his teeth. A spurt of blood came following, trickling down his mouth. His eyes were glittering with tears, and he looked close to passing out from the sheer agony that was coursing through his veins. Charlie's heart pumped hard through his chest. After Marcus extracted the tooth into his bare hands, his body seemed to collapse. His eyes closed, and the first thing that Charlie did was place him down to determine if he had a pulse.

 _"WHAT DID YOU GIVE HIM?!"_ Adrian suddenly exclaimed, shooting a darkened look towards Terence.

"I—I—" Terence looked very blue in the face. He had his hand pressed against his cheek.

 _"LOOK AT THIS, YOU SODDING BASTARD!"_ Charlie had never seen Adrian this terrified and angry before. His face had turned into a violent shade of red that he'd never seen on Adrian before today. It was uncanny and terrifying. _"LOOK AT THIS!"_

"Adrian, I..." Terence looked like he was about to faint himself.

Miles was staring at Marcus, mouth agape and stunned. He seemed to have nothing to say.

Percy immediately moved down towards Marcus, grabbed the tea off the table and took a nice big whiff of it to try and identify whatever Terence might've done to it. Charlie didn't know why Terence would spike Marcus' tea, since they were close mates. This seemed like a violent act, like something someone would do to someone if they truly hated them. This didn't add up in Charlie's mind.

Charlie grabbed the tea cup, took an inhale, and then felt his head go lightheaded.

 _"WHAT DID YOU PUT IN IT, HIGGS?!"_ Adrian called out in rage.

Snape grabbed the tea from Charlie in inspection. He did not have to sniff it to notice what it was, but judging from Snape's facial expression, Charlie wouldn't want to know what it was.

Meanwhile, Charlie had his fingers on Marcus' pulse, which was slowly fading away...

"I'll take him to the infirmary. He's looking ill. Merlin knows how he tore that ruddy tooth out of his mouth," Charlie prompted, standing up and carrying Marcus like he was nothing more than just a broken doll - albeit a broken doll that was a few inches taller than him. It was startling seeing Flint like this. It was even more terrifying to know that he was in so much pain a few seconds ago that tearing out his tooth seemed to be a viable option. Charlie was so alarmed that he did not know what to do. Five minutes ago, he should've taken Marcus to the infirmary, but it did not come to his mind until later. Marcus seemed very weak and very much in pain.

By the time that Charlie got down to the infirmary and laid him down, Marcus was drained of colour.

His pallor made Charlie think that he was dead. He wiped away the blood trickling from Marcus' mouth, and pushed him to his side. Pomfrey caught sight of Marcus' blue lips and turned her full attention to him.

SITTING by Marcus, Miles placed a hand on his shoulder. He'd already told Adrian and Percy that he'd be visiting Marcus first because he honestly felt like Marcus would be least inclined to see anyone else. He could remember Marcus complaining of a terrible toothache that prevented him from eating. He would not eat for days because of it, and this potion that his ' _friend'_ had given Marcus (when it was meant for poor Percy) had made him go so manic that he tore off a bloody tooth. He would assume Percy would just chop off his extremities if he'd taken the bloody thing himself.

He couldn't believe that Terence could be _this_ conceited and resentful.

"Marc?" Miles called out softly when he saw Marcus stirring slightly. He'd been sitting here for an hour, waiting for Marcus to even do as little as turn his head to one side but he'd been lying supine without moving a millimetre for the past sixty minutes. _"Marcus?"_

Terence made Marcus _cry_. Miles shuddered at the thought. He'd known Marcus for years, and he had never seen him cry. He'd never even seen him close to tears, not like this.

Marcus looked up to stare at Terence, eyes still brimming with tears.

"Bloody hell," Marcus turned to his other side. His robes had slid down, revealing his prominent spine which seemed to be bruised. "Bletchley, you are _not_ the first face I want to see after I've just been knocked out."

Miles did not even crack a smile. "You rather I go get Terence?"

"Yeah, so I could finish pounding his face in," Marcus murmured.

Miles wasn't sure how Marcus managed to inflict that much damage to Terence, but he couldn't say he was feeling the least bit sorry for Terence either. Miles _knew_ that Terence was jealous of Percy, especially with how close Adrian and Percy were being, but he would've never guessed that Terence would've stooped to this level of covetousness and envy (yes, even though he was a Slytherin. Terence just didn't seem that jealous, not to Miles. Not enough to potentially _hurt_ Percy or anyone else. _Badly_.)

"I've got you this," Miles offered Marcus a cup of tea. It was charmed not to lose heat.

Marcus took one look at the thing that he used to subsist on and just shook his head adamantly. "I don't want any tea, Bletchley. Get that out of my face."

Miles stared down at the cuppa, feeling shocked. This stupid tea was the only thing that Marcus would have besides those crummy nutritional potions (that didn't even bloody work considering the fact that Marcus did not consume much else). Miles at least thought that the sugar and the milk content was better than subsisting on air, but Marcus seemed to be adamant on the fact that he needed as much nourishment as the Bloody Baron. Well, that was where he was going to end up with if he didn't consume anything.

"Come on, mate," Miles called out with a rare softness in his voice. "It isn't that bad. Whatever happened this morning. Call it a prank gone wrong."

Marcus shot a look towards Miles, a tired one. "I tore off my own tooth in front of the whole of Hogwarts and then cried like a baby. It _is_ that bad."

Miles stared at Marcus' deathly serious face, and felt a shiver run down his spine.

BY the time that Miles had left the infirmary a few seconds ago, he tried to cheer himself up but his thought came back to Marcus, and then Percy. If Marcus was in enough pain to tear off his tooth, he'd assume that it would be something similar for Percy. _Sure_ , they were Slytherin. _Sure_ , they had an awful sense of humour. _Sure_ , a bunch of them had parents that had been Death Eaters, but that did not mean that _they_ were. There was nothing funny about putting someone in so much pain that they'd do anything to end it.

Miles accidentally crossed path with Adrian Pucey and Percy Weasley. Weasley was looking so pale he looked like he should've been the one sent to the infirmary. He had Adrian's cloak around his shoulders.

"You shouldn't go in just yet. Marcus is absolutely livid," Miles advised. "Have you seen Terence yet?"

Adrian looked like he was just about to bubble over with anger. "That bloody arsehole that intended to hurt my best mate? Yes, I've seen him... he tried to apologise but I just denied it straight off. He must be dumber than I thought if he thinks that we're going to forgive him for _this_. I'm not even a little sorry about how hard Marcus hit him... he-he made Marcus _cry_!"

Miles slowly nodded his head. He felt his stomach sink at the thought of the dinner debacle.

Noting the shell-shocked look on Percy's face, he had instructed Adrian to take him back to the dorms.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

* * *

November finished with a heavy sigh. December started with a Flitterby.

Specifically, Percy had a Flitterby rest on top of his nose when he'd opened the window to stare at the Hogwarts landscape that Friday afternoon.

"Close the window, mate. It's freezing," Adrian muttered, shuddering and pulling his cloak to his frame.

"It is not," Percy huffed, but he shut the window anyway.

How could Adrian wear so many layers? Percy felt like he was just about two seconds away from tearing off his uniform and walking around Hogwarts in the nude.

Percy had already finished all of his classes for today, and his mind was reduced to nothing more than a vat of scrambled eggs. He could not do any of his work.

In fact, Adrian Pucey was currently more productive than him, for the black-haired Slytherin was lying on his stomach on Percy's bed, face buried into Percy's well-written, legible and organised Defence Against the Dark Arts notes, whilst humming to the tone of the Weird Sisters' new Christmas single.

Speaking of the Weird Sisters' new single, _Percy only heard it about fifty times in the past three days alone._

If he heard it just one more time...

"Guess what, Perce?" Adrian grinned wildly as he produced their recent Potions essay from his haggard-looking school bag that had obviously survived endless turmoil at the hands of the Hogwarts' staircase. "I couldn't wait to show you since we've gotten our essays back from Snape but look! Look at how much I got on my Potions essay!"

Percy remembered the first essay of Adrian's that he'd ever read. It was the awful!

The teacher marked him with a Dreadful, but they'd obviously been too lenient. The only redeeming part of it was that one could vaguely tell that Adrian put just slightly more than a ten minute effort into writing it. For the first month of Percy teaching Adrian, he'd received a Dreadful for all of his essays. Fortunately, Adrian's grades had dramatically improved since then but even that did not prepare Percy for seeing the letter grade scrawled hastily at the top of Adrian's paper.

"My first _Outstanding_!" Adrian waved around the essay in excitement. "And it's in _Potions_! I can't wait to write to my mum. She'd be ecstatic to hear about this!"

Percy's cheeks coloured in. He'd received an endless amount of letters from his parents, but he'd thrown them into the fire before even reading them. He was too afraid of confrontation. He was afraid that Charlie had told them and that they might've been taking it the wrong way. In all honesty, Percy was dreading going back home during the holidays. He could barely imagine how disappointed his father would be in him when he'd hear about this. He had _one thing_ to do and he'd mucked that up! Severely!

The last thing that Percy had expected however was that in his excitement, Adrian wrapped his arms around Percy so tightly that the redhead felt like he was going to suffocate.

"You're the best!" Adrian exclaimed, laughing brightly and burying his head into Percy's shoulder.

"Oh Merlin, would you two get married already?" Marcus Flint pulled them out of their reverie.

He shuffled into the room. Percy's heart banged in his chest, because Marcus had actually lost one or two inches of height (yes, he lost that much height in _less than a month_ ).

Marcus was still taller than both of them, but he suddenly looked more vulnerable. His robes now made him trip often, and they slid down slightly to show his thick collarbones gawking out of his skin. No matter how many times Percy had a look at Marcus' body, he was still evidently shocked.

Nowadays, it just seemed to get worse somehow. He could see the outlines of his ribs through his uniform, regardless of whatever Marcus was wearing on top.

He was eleven. He shouldn't be _shrinking_. He should be _growing_. It didn't help that Percy's heart hammered faster whenever he caught sight of Marcus' essays. It seemed that he could barely spell his own name correctly (yes, Percy was being serious in reporting this small fact). He failed one half of his essays, but more lenient teachers gave him D's and notes to see him after class. The whole of Hogwarts noticed how Marcus was regressing in physique, yet were still intimidated by him.

Marcus sat on his bed, and pulled off his loafers. "It's scalding hot in here, it is," he pulled down his cloak and then threw his tie aside. He turned to his side.

"Don't you have a detention right about now?" Adrian sounded out with a raised eyebrow.

Marcus just shook his head before he turned to one side. "I'm done with it," he snorted, as if it was funny before he ran his hand through his coarse black hair.

"Shouldn't it have started ten minutes ago?" Percy mentioned, raising an eyebrow himself.

Marcus rolled his eyes, and then sighed, flickering his pale eyes towards the duo, whom stood beside each other by the window. "Oh, stop it, you two. I didn't skip detention. Snape dismissed— _oh,_ _stop giving me that sodding look_. I'm not your frail little house elf. I'm bloody sick and tired of people giving me _that_ look. I can still break both of you with my eyes closed if I wanted to."

Adrian moved away from Percy, and sat down beside Marcus. "We'd stop giving you this look if you help yourself. You're so bloody stubborn—but even then, we're going to make sure that your father is not going to hurt you anymore. We've sent letters to Aurors, and last we saw Pomfrey, she's writing a letter to your mum, asking for her statement about the whole situation."

Marcus' eyes widened so now, they were bigger than dinner plates. "You better be bloody joking."

He sat up and stared at them with a vacant expression. Percy was surprised to see Marcus genuinely looking absolutely mortified. "You did _what_?" he crumbled his hands into fists. "How many times did I tell you not to get involved into _this_?! It's none of your bloody business and now, now..."

Marcus' shoulders were shaking from a mixture of rage and fear.

"Now..." he shook his head and grabbed his Transfiguration essay from the table.

He grabbed his shoes and his cloak and stormed out of the room. Adrian looked moderately surprised at Marcus' outburst, when he shouldn't have been. Marcus had outbursts like this all the time.

Percy was more surprised at the flash of fear in Marcus' eyes.

"I _had_ to tell him," Adrian reasoned, running his hand through his black hair and then cringing. Recently, his hair had been becoming greasier as a result of him finishing his flobberworm mush. He'd written multiple letters to his mum, asking for more. It only drove home the fact that Adrian looked like a small version of Snape. "He didn't know, and it's not like he could stop us from doing now that we finished doing it, but I didn't expect him to be so—so _startled_."

Adrian bit down his lower lip.

"Do you think that maybe we shouldn't have meddled into this?" Adrian asked, his voice eerily soft. "I mean—we couldn't let Marcus' dad keep on doing this, but maybe we should've done something else. Maybe we should've just let Snape or McGonagall deal with it."

"It's too late for that now," Percy murmured.

What did this mean for them now? They couldn't exactly undo it, and Percy was sure that he did not want to if he was given the chance. Marcus was fading away in the worst possible way. They couldn't wait until the teachers really decided to intervene by taking more liberal measures than just having a simple after-class chat. It didn't help that Marcus was subsisting on air and whatever Pomfrey could give him to prevent him from collapsing into a heap on the floor.

Adrian suddenly perked up. "Did I tell you? I'm coming to your house for Christmas."

"No," Percy immediately said. The last thing he needed was to owl his mum after months of not communicating with her to tell her that he was bringing one of his Slytherin mates back home.

"Yes, I am," Adrian chirped. "I already told my mum! She couldn't say no, Perce."

Percy glowered over at Adrian. "You are in no circumstances coming to the Burrow for Christmas. I'm not sure if you're going to leave the house with your hair fully intact."

Adrian flinched jokingly, and then smirked, "I can handle myself."

Said the bloke that started to cry because he'd stubbed his toe on Terence's bed at three in the morning on his route to the lavatory—and then blamed _Terence_ for it the following morning because he must've done something to make Adrian toe-stubbing-prone.

"ADRIAN, Percy," Terence Higgs ran towards the tall Slytherins.

His small legs could barely keep up with theirs and it didn't help that it was obviously that Adrian was deliberately walking faster to avoid having to spend even a second with Terence.

He knew he mucked up _ages_ ago, but he wished that people would be able to forget about it. He felt bad enough as it is. His own guilt was eating him up without people acting like he'd shouted out an Unforgiveable towards Marcus instead of giving him a maybe-not-so-harmless-after-all potion. _Yes_ , he knew that Marcus tore out his tooth and cried because of him. He felt awful about it. He could practically hear Marcus screaming out in his sleep. He wished that Marcus would hit him some more, just so the guilt could go away because he could barely deal with this.

Terence was finally able to catch up with them when they'd turned down the corridor. Percy's pace was getting slower, probably because of his leg injury. "Please, stop," he ordered as he panted.

"What do _you_ want, Higgs?" Adrian called out in annoyance, his eyes dark and a Snape-like scowl resting on his face. He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest.

Beside him, Percy stood with a raised eyebrow and a mild irritated expression.

"I'm sorry," Terence called out for what felt like the millionth time that month alone. "I'm sorry. I really am. I just—I wanted to give—"

He looked through his bag which was fully of essays marked back. He nearly always got an A on them, and he supposed that that was acceptable enough. He had a sparse amount of D's and O's, but he was consistently an average. "Just this—I mean I know I put it—" Terence managed to weed through his bag in haste, before he produced a short Slytherin scarf comprised of tweed. Terence preferred his scarves to be tweed.

He offered it to Percy, whom looked surprised.

"I haven't charmed it or anything," Terence insisted, still finding himself slightly breathless from trying to track these two down. He swore he must've walked through half of Hogwarts before he found them. "I know most parents send scarves round this time but I thought that maybe yours haven't so- _so_... I told my parents to get you one. Here. I'll j-just—"

Terence slinked the scarf around Percy's shoulders, smiling a little when he noticed how nice it actually was with his dotted skin. He offered the matching tweed gloves as well, and then pulled a quick blanket of the same material over his shoulders. It was a bit too short on Percy's body, but it wasn't completely useless.

Just as Percy pulled his hands around the blanket, Terence immediately disappeared down the hallway.

"NOT so fast, Mr Flint," Snape said, seeing most of the students leave the last Potions' lesson they would have before their holidays. For the last four months, he'd been seeing Marcus Flint at least three times a day. "Detention for the lewd comments you made in the hallway last night."

Beyond classes, the amount of detentions that Marcus Flint allowed himself to get into seemed infinite. There was one day of the week where Snape had him for five detentions after double Potions. By the end of the thing, Snape felt like throttling Marcus out of the dungeons. It didn't help that Flint seemed to fall asleep into whatever he was doing no matter if he was standing, sitting or lying flat on the ground.

Marcus seemed to deflate at being called out and then groaned before he walked to Snape with a look of disinterest plaguing his face.

"Sit down," Snape instructed, before he turned to rummage for a potion.

Marcus sat down whilst Snape looked through phials of his own potions and then produced a small phial of a cloudy-looking liquid and then offered it to Marcus, "Drink this."

Marcus stared at him with a raised eyebrow. For a few seconds, he opened his mouth, obviously to ask what it was but the question didn't bother leaving his lips before he pulled off the top and downed it down.

Snape watched Marcus stare at him with a vacant expression. _"Well?"_ the Potions Master called out.

"Well, what?" Marcus asked, staring at the empty phial. "Was this supposed to do something?"

"Miles Bletchley had informed me that you were suffering from a persistent toothache that is so severe that you are not able to eat any of your meals and as a result, have lost a sufficient amount of weight this term," Snape muttered, eyes on Marcus' prominent pallid cheekbones. "I was instructed by Pomfrey to remedy this with a potent analgesic."

Said potent analgesic took Snape two months to brew and should have worked—if not for the fact that Marcus' father had either used a blood or dark magic as a mean of enclosing whatever spell he'd used on Marcus' teeth to offer him this terrible pain.

Marcus seemed to flush deeply and fiddle with the sleeve of his robes.

"Your father has been using dark magic, hasn't he?" Snape asked, but Marcus did not seem to answer. Though his lack of response only proved that the man did, in fact, use some kind of dark magic to ensure that Marcus would not be able to get rid of that fumbling toothache.

Marcus looked agitated. "I'm too doltish to know."

"You don't need to protect this man, Mr Flint," was all that Snape said, staring back at the empty phial in Marcus' hands. When Marcus spoke, Snape had his attention focused on his missing middle tooth, which he'd chucked out with his own bare hands months ago.

Marcus placed the phial down onto the desk, and pulled the bag over his shoulder.

"You don't know him," was all that Marcus said before he turned to leave the dungeons.

PENELOPE Clearwater immediately grabbed Percy Weasley's elbow, propelling him slightly backwards. He nearly just about dropped his books because he was surprised despite the fact that Penelope had called out Percy's name about twenty times in the last five minutes. He seemed to have geared his focus elsewhere.

Adrian Pucey seemed to have noticed Penelope approaching and had tried to get Percy to notice it too.

Penelope wondered what he could find so important that he had blocked out the rest of the world, but that was before she'd caught sight of a particular essay pressed against his Defence Against the Dark Arts books. A Transfiguration essay that was due in less than fifteen minutes. He probably had proofread it and added a bit more substance to it. Even though she'd only caught a glimpse of it, she saw a few sentences written with fresh ink. It was obvious that whatever addition Percy had added, he'd done so only five minutes ago.

Percy looked back at Penelope with a confused expression and a raise of his eyebrow.

"Penelope—"

"I won't get a chance to give you _these_ tomorrow morning," Penelope noticed the tweed grey-and-green Slytherin scarf that was wrapped around his shoulders. It was short and somewhat untidy. She also did not fail to notice the small blanket tucked under his arms, or the fact that he was wearing tweed gloves. "I made them myself and I hope you like them."

She pulled out a linen Slytherin scarf and wrapped it over Percy's tweed one. She offered him gloves to put on his other ones, and then a big, thin linen green-and-grey blanket over his shoulders. He looked a little funny with two different types of fabric on top of his body, but he did not look anywhere near cold. Though she supposed that the linen wasn't actually the warmest fabric but it was all that Holly had.

"I also got you these," Penelope pulled out a box of expensive-looking chocolates and a note attached. She had spent days trying to write that note because she wanted a very elegant handwriting and the chocolates were a murder to get. She wanted them to have cute Christmas patterns on top, but had a hidden _P_ in every single one of the patterns. It was hard to communicate that to her father, however, whom obviously suspected her very large crush on Percy Weasley. "Happy holidays."

She leaned forwards to give him a kiss on the cheek. Penelope knew that Percy probably did not get her anything and that didn't annoy her not even one bit. In her opinion, she _owed_ Percy at least this kind gesture as he saved her life, but he did not owe her a thing.

"I now pronounce you both husband and wife," Adrian Pucey joked, only for Penelope to feel like whacking him with a very large textbook.

"We're just friends," Penelope insisted, rolling her eyes before she gave Percy another kiss on his cheek.

Adrian rolled his eyes. "Just friends, my left buttock. I wouldn't be surprised if you tear out your heart and give it as a Valentine's Day present to my lad."

"She would not," Percy huffed but his cheeks were red at the thought. "Thank you, Penelope. This is a very kind gesture and I'm surprised by your ability to knit so well."

"Thank you," Penelope said, blushing just as deeply. Honestly, Penelope probably would tear out her heart for him if she could. She felt so grateful for what he had done for her and she had no means of repaying him. She was the only one that acknowledged the great big deal of something that Percy had done for her and that thought made her feel so low. _Percy saved her life._ Why did people ignore this? How could they?

She felt oddly good seeing Percy attempt to walk with his excess amount of layers. He was obviously trying to be polite when he looked like he was sweating underneath all the extra padding.

With a smile on her lips, she realised that she, too, needed to turn in that Transfiguration essay _right now_.

"WHY are you looking at me like this?" Percy said to Adrian Pucey that early December morning.

They were all due to go home for the holidays and all that Percy could think about was his family.

Every now and then, a feeling of paralysing dread found its way to the pitch of his stomach when he remembered that Marcus was supposed to go home to his parents today as well. According to Miles, his father was to intervene soon. They had piled a nice amount of evidence against Marcus' father and did not want to strike without a solid foundation.

Adrian just blushed deeply. "I've already told you that I've told my mum that I'm going to come home with you, and I've told her that your mum doesn't know that you're in Slytherin so..."

Adrian, whom was dressed in complete black attire, pulled a large cashmere Slytherin blanket over Percy's shoulders, before placing a rather large green-and-grey hat on top and a pair of black earmuffs. Percy looked something laughable with his multiple layers, his out-dated shoes, and his uniform. He had tried to find the thinnest pair of robes to wear that morning because he was actually perspiring heavily underneath all these layers.

Adrian offered a sheepish smile before he added on, "Merry Christmas, lad."

Percy only glared back at the black-haired male.

"Come on; let's head out now," Adrian had already shrunken their trunks and put most of the things that he'd needed aside. They were practically all ready, except for a pair of school shoes that Adrian had not bothered to pack yet.

Percy looked like he could barely breathe. "You may have to take to rolling me out of the castle."

"I didn't know you could joke, Perce," Adrian beamed at him as he shrunk his shoes as well before finding a place for them in his large school bag.

Percy's face was completely solemn. "I was not."

CHARLIE tried to stifle his giggles on route from the train to the house. Adrian was walking animatedly alongside Percy, whom was looking close to fainting from the sheer amount of layers that he was wearing.

Charlie was trying to think about what he was going to tell their mum when they got home. He had to explain that Adrian was Percy's friend, that Percy was in Slytherin, that he was a possible epileptic and that he'd gotten sent to the infirmary so many times this past semester that Pomfrey had a bed made just for his accident-prone brother. He also wanted to mention that Percy was possibly getting involved into a dangerous scheme with that arsehole Marcus Flint had for a father. Oh, Merlin, how was he going to do all this?

Just as Charlie opened the door, the first thing that Molly did was pull Percy into a very tight, soul-binding hug before Molly called out, "There's my little Slytherin prince! You must be so cold... but I made you a sweater to warm you right up!"


	24. Chapter 24

_**response to any inquiries:**_

 _ **Ward Vermassen:** firstly, i think every time i've read your comment, i've fallen in love with it a bit more. the Marcus Flint plotline will get a thing of fresh ammo at some point but i'm honestly not sure when. i've only a slight idea for what i want Marcus to do. it's really more Marcus' father that's important (at least to these few chapters). there is something of a **slight mention** to where i want to take the plot too in this chapter and the next - and funny you should mention drama and near death experiences. there's a lot of those soon! aye, this darkens dramatically in the next two chapters, but where i'm writing now (i believe i've gotten to Chapter 31), it's fairly somewhat-serious-but-not-really-not-at-all and i'm finding great pleasure in writing that.) i'm just worried at this pace, by the time we end this, it'll be chapter 90. i'd rather it that way however. i dislike stories that go too quick more than i do the ones that go too slow. _

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

* * *

"Mum, I really do not need another layer added on," Percy insisted, as her mum released him from his soul-binding hug. He felt like one of his internal organs had disintegrated. Wait; did she just call him a _Slytherin_ prince? She _knew_? And she didn't completely and utterly loathe his very quintessence?

"Who is this?" Molly looked over at Adrian, with a bright and welcoming smile etched upon her features.

"Adrian Pucey, Madame," he answered with such a honeyed voice as he fixed his jet black hair. "I'm one of Percy's mates—wait, let me correct myself—I'm Percy's _best_ mate."

"You know who you remind me of?" Molly immediately asked. Percy tried to bite his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing already because he knew _just exactly who_ Molly was reminded of when she saw Adrian. It was exactly who everyone else was reminded of when they saw him. "You remind me of one of your professors... Professor Snape? I've seen a picture of him before. You look like a little version of him."

"With all due respect, Mrs Weasley," Adrian's smile was eerily wide; "at least I wash my hair."

 _That's fairly debatable_ , Percy thought to himself. Ever since Adrian's flobberworm mush supply had run out, his hair had become greasier and was taking full Professor-Snape's-hair characteristics.

Molly must've come to the same conclusion because she cleared her throat.

"I've brewed some tea, and made a few biscuits. Go upstairs, change; eat some whilst I'm making dinner. Don't break anything. Either of you two, alright?" she ruffled through Percy's hair. She obviously noticed how flat it was because she frowned. "What happened to your hair?"

Percy opened his mouth to reply to the fact that he preferred his hair in a consistency that did not remind Percy of an aggregation of Penelope's ribbons, but Adrian was already dragging Percy upstairs.

When Adrian caught sight of Percy's room, his face fell a little bit flat as he realised that Percy did not have any interesting games around. It didn't help that Adrian looked slightly claustrophobic in Percy's tiny room. The first thing he did was open the window to let some fresh air in, and then he looked down at Percy's bed to see if Percy had hidden anything fun.

Percy was surprised at how different his room was from when he had left it. Firstly, the rooms had been painting to a nice dark blue colour. The curtains had been replaced by some sort of velvety, brown fabric. His mum had knitted a large patchwork blanket to put over his bed. It looked abnormally cosy. His pillows were covered with crochet pillow case. His bookcase was plugged with so many books that Percy's head was spinning. Hung by his closet with some sort of charm were a new, shiny set of Slytherin robes. He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes going down to the nice red carpet on the ground. Everything seemed mismatched and out of sorts, but all that Percy could focus on were how different it all was.

He moved closer to his bookcase. _There were so many books_. He placed his thin hands on some of the new books. They had that nice new book smell that made his heart flutter.

"Your room is boring," Adrian groaned, breaking Percy out of his weird trance.

"No, it's..." Percy's eyes locked onto a new cherry desk waiting for him, with a bunch of parchment paper already set on the side along with an array of new, still unwrapped quills. There was also that nice ink that Percy always got from that one tiny little shop in Diagon Alley. "It's _perfect_."

He couldn't wait to use his new quills and parchment to write to Penelope Clearwater to tell her about his new quills and parchment.

SMILING incoherently to himself, Percy's hands were in his pockets as he sat by a lake along with Adrian Pucey. On the other side of him was Bill, who had returned from Egypt an hour ago.

Ever since Bill had returned back from Egypt, his mum hadn't left him alone for a second. Every minute she'd have tried to force out stories about all that happened in the last few months. This, of course, made her realise just how dangerous his job and made particularly tearful. It did not help that Bill looked like he hadn't slept in days, what with thick, dark circles around his eyes. At the moment, Bill pulled up his navy-coloured trousers and dangled his legs in the water. He looked so exhausted that he looked like he could just so easily slip into a coma.

"You alright, mate?" Adrian looked up at Bill with a concerned expression. "You look like you've drunken too much firewhiskey."

"I wish that was the case," Bill tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "Is it really _that_ obvious?"

Both Percy and Adrian replied at the same time, "Yes."

"Maybe a good bath would do you good..." just before Adrian could push Bill into the water, Percy stopped him. The last thing they needed was Adrian to push Bill into the water (enchanted not to freeze even at subpar temperature) and having to take home a block of ice with red hair.

Bill stretched, dipping his legs a bit further into the water and plunging closer to the surface but not slipping into the icy water.

Percy restrained the urge to tell Bill not to dangle his legs because only Merlin knew what kind of terrifying creature lived in this great body of water. However, after twelve minutes of watching Adrian and Bill dangling their legs into the water, he settled down with Adrian for a minute, his head on Adrian's shoulder as they stared out into the open. The snow gently fell on his gloved hands and melted just at the contact. Percy wiped the droplets onto his thick black pants. His legs could practically feel the great depth of the water.

It was eerily soothing and nearly made him want to slide fully into the lake. He wanted to disappear into the horizon, and enjoy the feeling of the cold water guiding him well into the sunset.

Percy knew that Adrian couldn't swim and Bill barely could (something his mum mentioned as a reason for why Bill should find another job, preferably something that did not require him being in a life-or-death situation). Percy, however, learned when the twins used to toss him out in the lake next to Aunt Muriel's house whenever they visited. They were seven then and thought it was _hilarious_ that Percy was drowning. Percy, unfortunately, missed the joke as he was too busy trying not to die.

"Mum mentioned that she'll be back around here in two hours," Bill decided to say.

She had taken the twins, Ginny and Ron to have a look over at what happened to the strawberry fields in the harsh wintry weather. Charlie and Arthur were back at home, trying to test his new muggle contraception. Percy remembered going to the strawberry fields in the wintertime. He ate so many frozen strawberries that he had gotten fairly ill for days afterwards, not able to get rid of the sick solid feeling in his tiny belly.

 _"Two hours?"_ Adrian said, looking horrified. "We have to stay in this blasted cold for another two hours?"

"It's nice," Percy decided, looking down at the water pooling at his feet.

Bill offered a yellow, nearly fallen apart thermos towards Percy, who didn't even have to open it to know what was in it. _Frozen pumpkin juice!_

Just before Bill could do it, Percy transfigured a falling snowflake into a tiny white spoon. Bill seemed surprised at how well Percy had done that, but honestly, the eleven-year-old knew he could've done it far better, as his spoon was a little wonky.

"What is that?" Adrian looked at the amorphous, dark orange substance in the thermos.

"Frozen pumpkin juice," Percy could barely contain his excitement. "It's my favourite thing in the world."

Adrian cocked an eyebrow. "Frozen _what_?" he looked over at Bill with an expression so confused that it actually made Bill laugh a little. "I'm _not_ eating that! That's disgusting!"

Bill raised an eyebrow and then said, "Percy, I think you should rethink your friendship with Pucey."

"Agreed," Percy said, before he pushed the thermos next to Adrian.

Adrian jolted, standing up all of a sudden as if Percy was offering a spider instead of a beverage.

"Get that away from me!" Adrian exclaimed before he turned to sit down. He slipped on a block of ice that was just beside a large rock he was leaning against and then fell into the water.

Without any hesitation, Percy pushed the thermos and snowflake spoon away, and threw himself into the water.

The cold rush was nothing like he had ever expected. Percy was surprised that this was one thing that he could do that Bill couldn't do. This was something that Adrian couldn't do. He pulled his arm out, outstretched and had no trouble gaining a grip on Adrian.

 _It is him. He is the one_ ; he could hear a voice pounding in his head. _He is the one that has killed Elijah. He is the one that they are looking for and they will come._

What creature was talking? Were they talking to him? Couldn't be... Percy didn't kill an Elijah! He'd probably remember if he _broke the law_.

They must've only spent minutes in the water before Percy resurfaced, feeling the cold water run down his cheeks. Bill seemed to be in the water, looking a little ill as he frantically searched for them. Percy moved towards Bill and it didn't take long before they were lifting Adrian from the lake.

Adrian coughed, spluttering water. "Mum will _not_ be happy to hear about this," he sounded raspy.

"Neither will ours," Bill mentioned, snorting before he said, "Mate, our mum isn't going to let you get out of her site when she hears about what happened."

"What happened is that Percy saved my life that is," Adrian perked up, looking over at the redhead. "Very Gryffindor of you to do, Weasel but I approve."

Percy's cheeks coloured in. It _was_. "I'm not...I'm—"

Adrian looked over at Percy with a softened expression and a grin on his face, as Percy and Bill helped pull him well into the woods, away from the water. Bill's robes were soaked to the bone, and his plum-coloured sweater, seemed nearly black from how drenched it was. Percy had failed to notice he, too, was absolutely sopping, and golden sweater now had an unappealing brown colour.

"He saved my life!" Adrian told Bill as if the redhead hadn't been there, which prompted a chuckle from Bill. "Merlin, you've got a hero complex. First, Clearwater—now me!"

"I'm sorry..." Percy rolled his eyes. "Would you like me to shove you back into the water?"

Adrian looked paler than usual and seemed to be shivering. "Oh no, I think I've had enough near death experiences thank you very much."

Bill had pulled out one of those warm never-lose-heat-no-matter-what blankets and offered it to Adrian. He offered another one to Percy.

"Me too?" Percy was surprised, but then he realised that he, too, had been deep in the water yet somehow did not seem to notice how numb his cheeks were or how cold his fingers were.

Bill raised an eyebrow as if Percy's question was the most ludicrous one he'd ever heard. "Perce, if it wasn't for the red hair, you'd have camouflaged into the snow. You know when mum hears about this, she's going to have you tied to your bed for the remainder of the Christmas holidays."

Within a few minutes, a bit of rosiness came back to Adrian's cheeks.

Percy returned back to his frozen pumpkin juice and took his mouthful from his snowflake spoon.

"Can I have some?" Adrian suddenly asked, pulling Percy out of his thoughts.

Percy smiled. _Of course_ , he tried not to roll his eyes. _It would only take Adrian being in a near death situation to realise how insane it is to decline frozen pumpkin juice_.

They sat beside each other. Percy did not know if he should be letting Adrian have something cold after he'd been in the water.

"How is it?" Percy asked, when he knew that expression on Adrian's face. It was the same expression that graced Adrian's face when he tore into a chocolate frog.

Adrian shrugged. "It's alright."

Percy just smirked and nodded his head. "I'm sure it's _just_ alright."

"Couple of nutters you two are," Bill said, leaning against one of the big boulders, looking like he was going to doze off. The blankets that they packed barely covered his legs.

The tiny spoon was so cold to his touch. He passed it to Adrian, and transfigured another snowflake. The frozen pumpkin juice and some of the snowflake spoon melted into Percy's tongue as he ate. In fifteen seconds, they transfigured so many snowflakes into spoons that Percy's hands ached from holding a wand for so long. He laughed so much that he coughed because of how cold it was. His nose felt numb, but at the same time, his body felt warm from the heat of the blanket.

THEY didn't get home until later on within the day.

The first thing that Molly had done when she'd heard Bill reiterate the story was have both Percy and Adrian sit on the couch, completely covered in enough blankets that the risk of suffocation was relatively high. The fireplace was lit in a way that made Percy think that whoever tried to venture into their fireplace would surely get their entire body _Incendio_ -ed. They were instructed to get through a pot of warm tea for the next half hour. By the end of it, Percy felt like he'd spiked a fever, but their mum only said that it was just Percy's body warming up as it should be.

By the time that they had gotten down to having dinner, Percy found himself having very little appetite. He pushed things around his plate, and stared at the wall.

"Percy," Adrian nudged Percy's arm, looking at him with big eyes.

"What?" Percy looked at Adrian with a confused expression.

Adrian just shook his head before he sighed. "Mate, you were staring at the wall for the past five minutes, and no matter what I said or did, you weren't moving... for Helga Hufflepuff's sake, Perce, you look like you're about to double over or pass out."

Percy looked at the table, noticing that everyone was staring at him with a gaped expression, save for Ginny, Ron and the twins.

"What is it?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I think Percy might've had one of those absent seizures, you—" Charlie was cut off immediately by Arthur.

Percy remembered reading about those in the brochure that Charlie had given him once. An absent seizure was just one where he was staring into space, not doing anything and muggles didn't feel any differently after them, but he had _wizarding_ epilepsy. And he felt absolutely ill.

"Percy did _not_ have another seizure," Arthur firmly said, but Percy had a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him that he might have. He felt groggy like before, and his hands were slightly shaking. He had lost track of time and could barely recognise where he was at. Percy was pretty convinced, now that Arthur mentioned it, that he did have some form of a seizure. A scared feeling found its way to the pit of his stomach. That meant that _he really was an epileptic_ , and he was going to have another one—and _more_. And if it was one like he had at Hogwarts, he would have to get sent to that nasty ward like he really was nutters. "Isn't that right?"

A flabbergasted Molly slowly nodded her head. She looked close to tears. "Yes, he's just a little tired. He was quite the hero today. He's just a little spaced out is all. Spacing out is completely normal."

Adrian seemed to come to the same conclusion that Percy did: that Percy did, in fact, had a seizure and nodded his head. He, too, denied that Percy ever had one. "Aye... Room's still intact after all," he shot Percy a well-meaning smile and squeezed Percy's fingers. Percy did not fail to notice how hard Adrian's grip was.

Breaking the uneasy tension was the annoyed-looking twins.

"Of course he didn't have one!" Fred called out, looking to and from George like he was the only one that had a bit of sense knocked into him before he explained, "I thought that was obvious. He didn't start dancing around and shaking like one of those Rhythmic Runes wankers like he did last time, did he?"

Molly shot Fred a look. "Watch your tongue, George."

"I'm Fred," the nine-year-old said in frustration.

Percy chuckled slightly to himself. He thought it was a little funny that the twins really didn't know that Percy really did have one.

His head was feeling a bit cloudy, and in seconds, he found himself being shaken again. He blinked a few times, and looked over a repeated scared-looking Adrian, whom was staring at him with a softened expression.

"It happened again," Adrian said in a whisper. He placed a hand on Percy's lap, looking a little frightened. He looked abnormally small in the oversized black sweater Molly had knitted for him. "Come on, mate. Let's take you upstairs. You need to lie down."

Ron looked a bit aggravated that people were making a big deal out of it, and Ginny just seemed to pay most of her attention towards the tray of treacle tart that lay in the centre of the table that she was hoping to eat soon. Ginny also seemed to know that ice-cream was following soon, probably strawberry ice-cream considering their mum had a surplus of strawberries from field picking.

Percy nodded his head, feeling slightly shaky as Adrian walked upstairs with him.

Percy didn't know how long it took to get to his room, but once he walked into the little room, he quickly slipped into his sheets.

Adrian was sleeping on a small mattress that Arthur had dug out a while ago that was charmed to maintain heat throughout the night. He also had multiple old crocheted blankets and big fluffy pale pillows... Percy's bed was too small to fit the both of them comfortably.

"Percy," Molly's voice pushed them both out of the reverie. She stood there with two big platefuls of warm treacle tarts topped with strawberry ice-cream, which was a rather vibrant pink. She offered one to Adrian, whom took it uneasily and offered the other one to Percy.

Percy stared back at her with a weary expression. He felt very drowsy and out of sorts.

MOLLY looked terrified as she stepped into Percy's bedroom for the second time that night, noticing that Adrian was fast asleep and Percy was lying down in an unnatural position. His breathing seemed to be short and shallow and his whole skin seemed to be burning up when she'd touched him. She had tried to run a few spells to see if he had any common wizarding illnesses that seemed to set off those absent seizures. Molly thought that maybe the weather must be doing him in. He had pushed all the blankets away from him now, and had his hand clutched to his damp abdomen. She did notice that Percy had put on some weight, but he was still too thin for her liking. He looked gangly with sharp angles in her opinion.

"Percy?" she called out, trying to ignore how laboured his breathing sounded like. He did not stir from his sleep. She really had to do something about the sounds he made during his sleep. He sounded like his lungs were going to collapse any second.

"Molly?" Arthur's voice pulled Molly out of her trance, as she flickered her eyes towards the doorway.

Arthur stood by the doorway. His cornflower blue eyes were soft. He looked wrecked. "What's wrong?"

"I think he's spiking a fever," Molly said smoothly, staring at him with a startled expression. She did not know if St Mungo's would be able to tell if the fever was related to any seizure activity. Molly bet that the healers could. He'd already had two seizure reports filed against him. They could not have a third. She wouldn't let them. "I can handle it."

Arthur slowly nodded his head. "We don't have any other choice, Molly."

Molly cocked her head. They were trying to avoid it, but it had to happen someday, wouldn't it? If they took Percy back to Hogwarts and he'd have another fit there... then they could take him into _that_ ward. At the same time, she couldn't just keep him caged into the Burrow. He was not an owl. Her little eleven year old child shouldn't be locked up into a _ward_ either until he was deemed as _satisfactory_ by the Ministerial standards... it was all so ludicrous and draining.

Molly pulled out her wand and tried to recall a few fever-reduction spells...

THE following morning as Percy woke up; he found that the both plates were demolished. They sat on his shiny new desk, stacked on top of one another along with a cupful of what looked to be tea (what Percy had guessed from the residual beige-coloured liquid). Percy had no memory of eating the tart. He had no memory of drinking tea _(did he?)._ He had no memory of last night. He remembered Adrian drowning, but the rest of the night seemed to be nothing more than a constant blur. His stomach was gnawing at him, like it used to when Percy had eaten small amounts of dinner, or did not eat dinner. It was that feeling alone that led him to conclude that Adrian probably ate both plates and washed it down with some tea.

"Mate, are you alright?" Adrian's voice pulled Percy out of his trance.

Percy opened his mouth, and nodded his head slowly. He looked back at the plates, and Adrian's cheeks coloured in softly.

He wondered why his sheets were so damp when he did not feel the least bit feverish.


	25. Chapter 25

_i've good news. i finally know **exactly** where i'm steering this ship towards (i.e. the plot). i've had, say, an outline, but after talking to two people, spending a few nights tousling about it, i've a good idea where i want it to be at and how i want it to end._

 ** _replies to any inquiries:_**

 _ **Ward Vermassen:** interestingly enough, it's one of those things... do you know how when someone is incredibly overweight with high blood pressure or high cholesterol and the minute they get the chest tightness that comes with anxiety, someone would immediately assume it's a heart attack? i think it's a similar thought process. it's plausible but improbable though the tidbit was written in Percy's point of view. he doesn't know what he did/didn't do during the "fit",  i.e. if he had one. they could've jammed a fork down his wrist for all we know and he was completely unresponsive. though you are right. it's a long shot hypothesis from a very normal response to a drastic situation. oh God, you have the most perfect things to say during reviews though. you bring up very valid, beautiful points! **"** **but I would like to see a character in fiction get ill once without it having massive (disastrous) consequences,"** interestingly enough, i believe there's maybe 1-2 of those... depending on how you define "massive consequences". this is actually explained later on (i know i say that a lot but you've just have to trust me that a lot of things that happen are not random). both Percy's tendency to being accident prone and the various fevers he's been having. there's a bunch of epileptic cases too... those will be explained later on and by later on, i really mean near the ending. probably second to last chapter from what i've plotted. _

_**Phoenixx Rising** : aye, the voices in the water are a fun bit, aren't they? _

_without further ado..._

 _as i remember the warnings, i will reiterate it just about once more: **isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**. _

**this is a very violent and graphic chapter.**

 **warnings for descriptions of violence and physical assault. also, illustrations that _could_ be interpreted as self-harm.**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

* * *

An eleven-year-old Percy Weasley allowed himself to be excited at around two in the morning where he'd run towards his parents' bedroom with a look of glee dancing in his vibrant aquamarine blue eyes.

He noted that his parents were both asleep and just before he could sound out his great big declaration of the day; he'd noticed how completely and utterly _exhausted_ they both looked like.

Percy let the words die in his mouth. He let his enthusiasm disintegrate as he watched them both groan and shift in their beds. His beaming grin turned into a tight line and a cold feeling filled his chest, as he turned away from his parents' room with a heavy heart.

 _Stop acting like such a child_ , Percy mused to himself.

He was the _only_ one standing by the door. Even six-year-old Ginny was fast asleep and wasn't running around the house at Merlin knew what time, making proclamations about Christmas Day.

Letting his shoulder sink, Percy turned around and returned back to his room.

Even his restless friend, Adrian Pucey, was asleep and making those dislocating-shoulder-like-noises. Somehow, this didn't warm the cold feeling in his body.

He slinked on top of his bed and curled into his sheets, pulling the warm patchy blanket around his body. The throb and ache in his leg was a dull pulsating pain—easily ignored under normal circumstances, but somehow, Percy felt like he was close to reaching breaking point with _this stupid leg_ that was _always_ in pain...

Percy found tears burning in his eyes, as he placed his hand on his leg. Flashes of memories whirled into his mind now. He remembered being so aware of being five-years-old because that was when the war was happening then. He could remember his mum clinging onto him for her life, and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. For a long time, Percy believed that she was comforting him, but it did not take long for him to catch onto the fact that she was trying to not only reassure him, but reassure herself. It did not take very long for him to sober up to the sadness that came with the war and that death could follow him around, clinging onto Percy like a scent. He remembered the last time he had seen Fabian and Gideon Prewett. He remembered that they had a fight about something, just hours before they died. He remembered that they served shepherd's pie that day. He remembered that by the time that the war had ended, he found himself unable to enjoy rudimentary things. He remembered tearing through books, trying to find something to help them fight the _bad_ people. He remembered staring out from their home, wanting nothing more than to leave. He remembered that by the time that the wizarding war was over, it took him two years to truly register to the fact that there was no more fear. He did not feel the excitement of all the other children. He was always alert, always waiting for something _bad_ to happen.

So he picked up the books and he read even more. He kept himself in a room and watched the world pass by him with a blurry vision. His world and the real world were always separated from a glass wall, and he did not know how to join them. Now, his new mates made him feel like a child again, but he _wasn't_. He couldn't allow himself to act like one, allow himself to run around starkers _for fun_ or throw himself in the deep snow until his face froze. He could not stick his feet in the mud, or stay out into the mucky rainy weather days.

 _This isn't fair,_ Percy mused to himself as he stared outside into the window. The glass was separating him from the snow. When did _he_ get to be a child...?

THAT whole day, Percy felt out-of-sorts. He did not feel much like celebrating and the small bit of excitement he had brewing in his belly last night had vanished. In it sat _that_ cold solid brick that took away any merriment he had. Adrian's mum had a bunch of packages sent to the household. Percy watched Adrian nipping through his packages, face lit up with zeal when he saw his beloved flobberworm mush, followed by Montrose Magpies merchandise, a new broom and a set of thick, woolly robes. Somehow, the abundance of gifts that Adrian had gotten didn't shift anyone's attention away from their own (well, it did effect Ron _momentarily_ , but he'd forgotten all about it when he had opened his gifts).

"Gwenog!" Ginny exclaimed as she threw the haphazard looking red wrapper away from her gift, before she shot a long and cold glare over towards Percy. "Don't kill her this time, Percy."

Adrian shot his friend an inquiring look. Percy ignored it.

"I'm sorry," Percy fumbled with his sleeves, recalling the way that he had destroyed Ginny's doll previously. He knew why he did it. When he'd returned home, ill but unable to accept it as a consequence of his own actions, he had felt as if the whole world was against him. It was not. This pain was his fault.

"No, you're not!" Ginny said, happily hugging the new toy.

Percy's eyes flicked over towards a seven-year-old Ron whom was pretending that he wasn't at all interested in the spiff between Percy and Ginny. He pretended that his investments only laid in the new set of Chudley Canons posters, socks and sweaters. Percy was sure that they would need a new wall just to for these posters, as Ron's room was already not only in a violent shade of orange, but was covered with so much paper that it was impressive that Percy could even tell that the wall behind was orange, though he supposed that the fact that Ron's clumsiness had attributed to the fact that half these posters had large gaping holes in them _(still Ron refused to take them down)_. Bill had been given new sets of earrings – which were silvery studs _("this doesn't mean that I'm alright with you wearing earrings, William,"_ Molly mentioned as Bill opened his gift before adding on, _"These are just less showy"),_ along with dragon hide boots which made Charlie look like he was close to having a mental breakdown. Charlie had a new broom considering the one he had been using for years now was a safety hazard.

The twins, whom normally would be given Zonko's products, were instead given new Exploding Snap cards and enough Honeydukes to prepare them for hibernation _(if only)_. Last year, they'd been given Zonko's products and that was the year where somehow, three of their mum's vases vanished and were later on traced back to the Holland by incident. Apparently, found floating in muggle sewers.

Percy had opened his gift, which included a few books. They were all thick books that had long titles. He smiled as he saw that he got one of Gilderoy Lockhart's _Voyages with Vampires_. He had nearly all his books, save for his autobiography. Percy did not enjoy reading autobiographies as he found them unnecessarily dull. However, he couldn't wait to tear into this book. He'd read _Holidays with Hags_ so many times that he could reiterate the prologue in his sleep. He knew that Penelope felt like the man was a vain amateur but Percy found his text rather refreshing, if only with an aura of conceit.

Percy's excitement for the book waned considerably quickly, when he caught sight of Ginny glaring at him and huffing towards him. He knew she didn't mean to. After all, she was just a child.

He felt a sudden guilt fill his body when he looked down at his book. _Yes_ , he wanted this book a lot. _Yes_ , he felt a little warm thinking of Penelope, but at the same time, he did not feel like he deserved the luxury of having a book like this one.

Just as he let the shame consume him, Adrian nudged him with something. "Mum sent this for you."

Percy blinked a few times before taking the letter, and did, in fact, notice a curly handwriting with his name on it. He bit down his lower lip, not sure how to feel about getting a gift from a woman that he'd never seen before. He slowly took the letter and pried it open, feeling uneasy and highly apprehensive.

"Mum doesn't know you well, so I can bet that that's just a few Galleons she might've sent you so you'd buy something you like," Adrian said, which made it worse.

Percy opened up the envelope and saw that there were a few Galleons that could count. His heart hammered— _more than a few actually_. He could feel his father's eyes on him for a few seconds and it made Percy's stomach drop because he knew that out of everything, Arthur Weasley did not like it when the family received money like this. It felt more like a bit of charity. Percy pocketed the few Galleons, glad that she didn't send him a pot of gold else Arthur wouldn't have let Percy do anything with it but send it back.

Percy felt a little terrible about deceiving his father, however. Percy pocketed three Galleons at once, and made them look like he was pocketing one. Arthur probably thought Percy had no more than four, when in fact, he had _twelve_ Galleons. Twelve Galleons was a lot, a _lot_ of money for him. He didn't know what to do with so many of them, but it just made the guilt feel worse because he'd pretended to his father that he had less Galleons than he did.

By ten in the morning, Percy seemed to try and force himself to have something.

Adrian seemed to notice and nudge him slightly, trying to coerce him to eat more than just an apple or a crumpet. Nowadays, Percy had been sticking to mostly eating one toasted crumpet, with apricot jam. His lacking appetite was stressing Adrian out, whom ate a whole lot, but definitely less than if Percy would've joined him.

He toyed with today's crumpet, and Adrian shot him a look that could've brought back Fabian and Gideon Prewett.

AT around five in the afternoon, Percy found himself wallowing in his own misery. He stuck his head out of the open Burrow window. Everyone was avidly playing Quidditch, and he found himself feeling eerily alone as he watched Charlie applaud Adrian.

Percy wished he could take the few Galleons that he had now and buy himself some Quidditch talent, but he did not think he could. He would like one day to be noticed for his achievements. Thus far, his shining grades had been overlooked and he didn't get more than a clap of a shoulders and a _well done, Perce_. He spent his whole days, lacking in sleep and working his body to the point where exhaustion was lulling him to sleep, to the point where his head felt like lead. Yet... Adrian could fly around in a broom and dodge a few Bludgers. Oliver could too. He let his thought flick back to the athletic boy in the files, the one that Arthur wanted to bring home after his 'death.' Percy bet that they'd be having far more fun with him.

He sat on the ground, waiting for them to be done. Percy's hands were on his new book but he hadn't read past the first two sentences. His eyes were locked on _them_ , and their laughter.

Even if he did join them, he would not be laughing with them. They would be laughing _at_ him.

Already, he could hear jeers of _you still don't know how to ride a broom, Percy?_ and his mum would be shooting him a look of worry. Bill didn't even like Quidditch that much, but at least he could play. Even seven-year-old Ron and six-year-old little Gin-Gin was better on a broom than he could _ever_ be. This irritated him more than it should.

They stayed there for hours and Percy watched for hours.

BY the time that dinner came through, Percy just stared as everyone else ate. He had loaded his plate with turkey, potatoes, peas and carrots, Yorkshire puds and gravy but he did not eat a thing of it. They continued to talk about Quidditch and Percy wondered if Christmas might just not be for him, simply because he did not derive any enjoyment from playing Quidditch.

"I saw you watching," Adrian beamed a smile towards Percy. "What do you think?"

Percy toyed with one of the roast potatoes. "You were brilliant."

"You really think so?" Adrian insisted, only for Percy to raise an eyebrow.

He still did not know why Adrian bothered to ask him when _Charlie_ was sitting right there, the bloody king of Quidditch. Percy kept this thought to himself, because it wasn't Adrian's fault that Percy was feeling beyond depressed and agitated over this. Percy couldn't help but wish that someone would've opted to sit with him instead of going to play Quidditch, even if it was just out of courtesy because he liked Christmas too. Even if he did not act like it, he was still like any other child. He liked to be spoiled too. He liked to be cajoled. He liked to be asked out for ice-cream. He was not _that_ much older than the twins, so why did people treat them like they were newborn infants and treat him like he was on par with Charlie's age?

This was hard. Percy did _not_ want this. If Ron was sitting inside, people would sit with him because he was so little. Percy was little too, not very little, but little enough...

It didn't help that nobody had even bothered to push him to eat something, not that Percy would've, but it just contributed to how low and pathetically sad he was feeling tonight.

Even his friend that seemed worried about him in the morning had somehow forgotten all about him.

THEY went off to bed late at night. Percy slept for no more an hour and a half before he woke up.

His entire body was gleamed with sweat, as he pushed away the blanket. He sat alone with his thoughts only for a few minutes before he decided that he had to leave because he could not bear the thought of being _alone_ like this. Adrian was sound asleep, practically hugging that stupid jar of flobberworm mush in his hands. Under normal circumstances, Percy would be the least bit amused by this, but at the moment, he wasn't.

Percy went to the kitchen and found a packet of custard creams. He wore his battered boots and trudged outside. He was wearing minimal clothing despite the heavy snow.

He was dressed in one of his mum's thinner amber-coloured sweaters, and a pair of thin pants that had about three holes on the right leg, which would normally not be enough considering the deathly cold weather outside but Percy didn't think that he'd be cold.

He walked along the path of the woods, not too far away from his house but far enough that he was breathing in different air, that he couldn't see the Burrow if he turned around. He sat down by a moss-covered log, listening to the trees rustling and hearing a gentle stream. A few small critters moved about, and he heard some generic grumbling sounds that he bet were coming from his empty belly. A buzzing sound was over his head and he looked up to see that he was sitting underneath a beehive that was infested with glumbumbles. Percy did not shy away from the hive, or move.

He just snapped open the packet, and let custard creams fall to the ground.

Somehow, it just dawned on his body that Percy had been surviving on very little. In the past two days, he had eaten a total of three crumpets with apricot jam, an apple and one ham and cheese toastie.

He picked up one of the biscuits. He picked up a butter knife that he had packed with him and scraped off the filling. Subconsciously, he held the knife out.

After a few seconds, he felt an annoyance fill him. _Why didn't Adrian take the bloody_ —Oh.

Percy felt a sudden pang in his chest, as he sunk down on that stupid log that he was leaning against. He kept the knife held and chewed on the biscuit, chewing diligently. He picked up another custard cream and scraped off the filling before he chewed on the biscuit, feeling his shoulder shake. It didn't feel right eating custard creams without Adrian, because Adrian always ate the filling.

His heart stopped when he heard a sound. He turned around to try and detect the source of the sound, not appreciating the presence of the hulking man standing in front of him.

"Do you know who I am, Weasel?" the man called out, having Percy direct his attention to his predator. "Come on. Take a guess... Smart boy, aren't you? _O's_ in all his subjects?"

 _Who are you? How do you know about my grades?_ Heat rose to Percy's cheeks, as his heart thumped loudly in his chest.

Percy turned around to see his predator before an uneasy feeling filled his chest. This man couldn't be less than seven feet and a half. He was built on an abundance of both fat and muscle. He wore very dark-coloured robes that weren't quite black, and his face was contorted with an expression of fury. The veins in his necks were pronounced, bulging from the skin. Percy felt his heart race into his chest, pounding faster as the man approached him. That was when a glint shimmered off the man's eyes and Percy paid attention to the nearly non-opaque, snowy eyes. He only knew one person with eyes like _that_ —

 _"I said take a guess,"_ the man repeated harshly. This time, it wasn't said nonchalantly. It was an order.

Percy's hands were shaking and he'd dropped his custard creams. He'd locked eyes with the man, maintaining a steady eye contact.

"Mr... Mr Flint?" Percy squeaked out timidly.

A look of smug satisfaction found its way to the man's face. "Do you know what my name is?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in deeply before he shook his head. All Percy could see for the next few seconds were flashing images of the finger-shaped bruises on Marcus' neck. No wonder they were so big... this man's hands were _massive_. "No, s-s-sir."

"Sir, is it?" the man arched an eyebrow in speculation. "Funny thing about this, isn't it, _Percy_? You have no qualms about trying to get me sent to Azkaban and you don't even know my _name_ now, do you?"

Percy found himself stiffening. He hated the way this man said his name, like it was a disease.

"I've been following you around, lad," he suddenly mentioning, a light and eerie smile ghosting across his features before he said, "Why do you think I happen to find you alone? I was waiting for this moment. Now, we can have a nice little chat about this, don't you think?"

Percy said nothing, but stared with large eyes as his hands moved to his thighs.

 _"Answer me,"_ Mr Flint ordered coldly.

Percy swallowed the lump forming in his throat, trying to forget about the knots twisting in his sensitive stomach. "Y-yes, sir."

"Good," Mr Flint cocked his head to one side. "My name is Caius."

"More like _callous_ ," Percy huffed under his breath.

Caius Flint laughed. The laugh sent shivers down Percy's spine and made his blood stand still.

"You're so keen on knowing what I do to my son, aren't you, Percy?" Caius mentioned, his crazed eyes looking more opaque and whitish before offering a smirk. "Why don't I show you?"

Before Percy could register what that man meant, Caius grabbed Percy by his shoulders, forced him to stand up before shoving him back down to the ground with a relative ease. Percy felt his chest and head hurt on impact. He coughed up dirt that he'd accidentally swallowed. His knees scraped against the hard ground.

"You wanted to be involved in this, _didn't you?_ Not so easy now when parchment paper and ink aren't anywhere nearby you, is it?" Caius hissed, eyes darkening. "Do you see what you get when you try to get involved with my son's life? Merlin, you've got the bloody nerve... I can't believe I've raised Marcus to trust a piece of dirt like you, but I suppose that's my partially my fault. Maybe I pounded his head in too much that he lost the shard of common sense that he was born with."

He chuckled, as if he said something funny. Percy's head spun.

"You, like my son, are _pathetic_ ," Caius called out.

Percy's eyes were already rimming with tears.

 _"HELP!"_ Percy exclaimed, his voice high. Could anyone hear him from around here? Could anyone hear him from the Burrow? He supposed not. He was at least a ten minute walk away, and even if he was closer to the house, everyone was asleep and his family could sleep through the wizarding war if it ever came to it. Adrian was an abnormally light sleeper, but he wouldn't be able to hear him from here.

Percy was in big trouble, but he didn't know who could help him!

"You know the interesting thing about a bunch of bloody eleven-year-olds trying to outfox me? The interesting thing is that they actually think it'll help any. Oh, Merlin, I couldn't touch a hair on those other rodents that reported me. All prestigious families, prestigious names... I couldn't hit one of them without the flock fighting back! But this is too easy. A Weasley? A _Weasley_ trying to report me? Hell, _the one that tried to run away?_ " Mr Flint kicked Percy's ribs with the heel of his boots so hard that Percy swore that he could feel his bones shatter. Percy gasped out in pain and tried to keep his tears at bay. "You were just asking to be beaten, weren't you, you sodding little rat. Even if your family of defects fight me back, I could torch them without lifting a ruddy finger!"

Was he in big trouble now? Percy thought, his head spinning. How could he fix this?

His heart was jolting into his ribcage in a way that made him feel like he was close to throwing up. He felt Caius' hand digging into his hair.

Percy hiccupped, unable to keep the tears at bay as they fell quickly and silently. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell this man to stop, but what good would it do? This was all his fault. He was the one that insisted on walking away from _his house!_

"Have you learned your lesson?" Caius announced angrily. "About trying to meddle with me? _I_ don't think you have."

Percy was torn from the ground with his hair, and was banged straight into the a tree—thank Merlin it was not a Whomping Willow!

His horn-rimmed glasses slid from his face but he turned to capture them as quickly as he could. His entire body had gone numb before he felt a stabbing rush of pain. It took a few moments for him to register that he was in genuine danger.

This wasn't a game anymore. This man could—

Caius slammed his fist into Percy's face. The contact was so bad that all Percy could feel was the numbing of his jaw before he tasted crimson blood and an explosion of pure anguish. Caius Flint hit him again and again, until Percy's vision was starting to go red and he felt like he was going to suffocate on his own blood. He was tossed to the ground again as if he was nothing more than Ginny's Gwenog doll.

"Let's see here," Caius Flint grabbed Percy's dodgy leg and a flash of horror filled Percy's bones. "This is the mucked up leg, isn't it? Oh, this is going to be fun—"

 _"NO... Mum, Mum! HELP! STOP... STOP... PLEASE!"_ Percy exclaimed, letting out an ear-shattering scream. He tried to wring out of this man's grip, _but he was so strong and big_. Percy knew he was essentially helpless.

 _What on earth told him to get out of the house in the middle of the night?! This is your fault._

In seconds, Caius pulled and twisted Percy's leg. Just before Percy could make a sound, the part-troll placed his hand on Percy's mouth. Percy bit it, which was a mistake because he tore one of his teeth before covering Percy's mouth again. Percy's whole body was enveloped with a searing, stabbing agony.

 _Marcus did this voluntarily?_ Percy's thoughts turned to his mate. His mind flashed back to the memory where he tore off his tooth violently. He'd preferred _this_ pain to another? The thought made Percy shudder, disturbed. He had lost sense of what had happened at that point, or why it was happening.

The only thing that he feared was that Mr Flint might essentially kill him...

Mr Flint let go, tossing Percy to the side. Percy's head hit the ground very quickly, letting Percy sound out an _oof_. A pounding ache in his head made him feel beyond disorientated. Percy placed his hands on his head, surprised by how wet his hands had become.

He looked down to see droplets of blood pooling themselves at his hands...

Pathetic sobs raked out of Percy's body. " _Stop_ ," he begged. "Please."

 _"Crucio!"_ was called out, followed by a _"Silencio!"_

Percy let the white-hot piercing pain fill his body. It was like his entire body had been disintegrating. He could feel as if his skin was starting to tear, and that his brain tissue was starting to liquefy. He felt as if his every organ in his body started to congeal and migrate towards his belly button, which Percy would do anything to stab. He wanted nothing more than to abolish every single piece of tissue that made him up. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He had never felt like this before in his entire life. Percy's sunk his fingers into his skin and dragged it across his flesh so deeply that a pool of blood had filled him.

Percy was not sure if he had passed out from the pain.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that the Cruciatus curse had been lifted from his body. The second thing that he noticed was that a multitude of trees had been torn asunder. Beehives were tossed aside and an admirable-sized swarm of glumbumbles were poking at Caius Flint. Percy would've laughed, or cried (whichever came first). Tears of delight slid down his cheeks because the pain of the Cruciatus was _gone._

He cried of happiness, even though the rest of his body was broken.

"You little rat!" Caius did not seem pleased, trying to flick the swarm away. Some glumbumbles were already stinging him. They would need a _much_ more potent dose of the small amount of poison in their tiny bodies to have an effect. "Merlin, when I get my hands on you, you'll wish you'd never been—"

Percy picked up one of the fallen-looking glumbumbles that seemed to be injured. Its wing seemed to have broken off before he pressed a finger against its furry body. It did not try to hurt Percy.

 _Why are you helping me?_ If Percy's fuzzy mind had told him anything, it was that he'd probably had a seizure that was so bad that he'd knocked over their trees. Why would they attack Caius but not him? He slowly stroked the creature's body with the tip of his finger. He did not take his wand with him, so he pulled the small glumbumble the pocket of his large sweater, somewhat thankful for the fact that the sweater was so massive on his petite frame.

Percy flicked his eyes towards the man, whom was now covered in glumbumble bites. His skin was covered in small and abundant lesions, raised from his skin, red, pulsating and painful.

"This is past the point of _mercy_ , Percival!" Caius called out. The man was disappearing underneath a hailstorm of glumbumbles that seemed to encircle around the man, buzzing away. "I know what I saw and I know what you have and I suggest that you either flee bloody Britain because when I take _this_ to the Ministry's attention..."

Mr Flint laughed, the laugh sent shivers down Percy's spine. "Stupid, bloody _epileptic_."

Percy stood up, falling down almost instantly because the pain in his body was _so bad_. He felt as if every bone and every small bit of soft tissue in his body was liquidising into the universe. He might be locked in a ward now, Percy realised, but that didn't matter now. Now, all that mattered was surviving the next few minutes.

He picked up the small glumbumble from his pocket, cradling it like a small child.

"Send help," was all he said, his breathing soft and shallow before the blackness overtook him again.


	26. Chapter 26

_**after this chapter, there's a large time skip**. _

_it'll most likely be more of a filler because i'm to make Percy jump from around **11 years old to 15 years old (Percy's age around where the books were at).**_

 _the next chapter is significantly lighter. i've probably re-written it about ten different times, trying to get down the characterisation of 15 year old Percy from 11 year old Percy. i felt like i was starting a completely different fanfiction. __a lot of characters change. dramatically. i can name like 5 characters that have flipped from one point to another but will have trouble finding 5 other characters that haven't changed much from how i've described them as 11. also, **Audrey** will be introduced soon enough. _

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

* * *

"I told him _not to do this_ ," Charlie said, his voice whispery and watery as he looked over at eleven-year-old Percy, whom was lying on the hospital cot, looking so pale that Charlie genuinely believed that Percy must've lost most of his blood.

"I know, love," Molly said in a soft voice.

Adrian just stared vacantly over at Percy, with a livid expression on his face. "That plonker should be sent to Azkaban. This isn't fair," he buried his head in the crook of Percy's arm.

"Adrian," a honeyed voice called out from behind him. Tall, black-haired Adrianna Pucey sent a disapproving look towards him, but it melted seeing Adrian's dissatisfaction. "Come here."

"No," Adrian said. It was hard for Molly to believe that Adrian and Percy were the same age. Adrian was so child-like and animated and Percy was just... _not_. He was mature and secluded, to the point where she sometimes forgot how young he was. She surely hadn't forgotten it now, seeing his rosy cheeks disappear in a sheet of white and a small smile in place of his normal tight line.

Adrianna crossed her arms in disapproval but she uncrossed them in seconds. "Okay." Molly noticed that Adrianna he didn't really know how to say _no_ to Adrian.

Molly was running her fingers through Percy's haphazard coppery curls every few minutes in the last half hour. The only thing Percy's red hair did was make his cheeks look even more pallid than they were.

Six ribs fractures healed, multiple blood-replenishing potions were given, any superficial skin injuries disappeared, and a tooth had been re-grown yet Percy was still in a chronic state of slumber. His head was cocked to one side, and he seemed to be smiling faintly. Sometimes, she heard him _laughing_ – light chortles under his breath and during the day, the smile would widen. A while later, Adrian confessed that he'd slipped an overpriced-and-beyond-expensive store-bought euphoria-inducing elixir into Percy's blood-replenishing potion because he didn't like seeing Percy look miserable in his sleep.

Adrian kept his gaze on Percy's arm. "I hope Marcus' father never wakes up..."

Then Adrian's deep brown in his eyes liquidised before he looked up at his mother with a look of complete confusion. "How did he do _that_? How did he hurt Marcus' dad...? Percy did do that, didn't he?"

"It's unproven," Adrianna mentioned in a smooth voice.

"He did it," Adrian insisted, suddenly sure of himself. "Percy hurt Mr Flint... _he did, didn't he?"_

Caius Flint was now reduced to nothing more than swollen skin blisters and irate abscesses. According to his healers, apparently he was in a great state of melancholy due to the excess glumbumble poison in his serum and it would take ages to correct itself, even though they were administering their antitoxin potions at high doses and intervals. Adrian wished they wouldn't bother. It was mentioned a few times that nobody had _'any proof'_ that the man needed to be sent to Azkaban and even if they did, they would still be liable to treat him. The Wizengamot, however, had insisted on a trial regarding the evidence presented by Henry Wells regarding the peculiarity of the situation regarding Caius Flint's attack.

Adrian let himself precariously believe that they _might_ be getting somewhere.

Charlie cringed at the thought. "Percy... he..." he looked to be debating it in his mind. "He _might_ have."

"If they do the trial," Adrian spontaneously mentioned, "Then he could mention that Percy was an epileptic, right? That— _that he did this?_ And then they'd... they'd send him to-to _the ward_?"

Percy was curled to one side of his bed, a linen Slytherin scarf wrapped around his neck.

Molly wondered what he had to be dreaming about that made him smile that wide. An unexpected laugh escaped his mouth. Over time, they seemed to be getting louder and more jubilant. Percy had to take a blood-replenishing potion every hour and Adrian had spiked his potions in batches with the bright yellow elixir.

"Yes," Adrianna said what Molly and Charlie could not dare to say.

"Percy is being punished for bringing this git to justice?" Adrian asked hotly. "Percy was the one that helped bring Caius Flint to custody. He was the one that bought Alec Lestrange to custody, and what was his reward? _Spending years into a ward until proven sane?_ Is this was what his life is worth to-to- _to_ —?"

"They hadn't proven that he had anything to do with Alec Lestrange," Adrianna mentioned in a velvety voice, sounding highly unsure of herself.

Molly was initially surprised at how young Adrianna looked like. She actually looked no older than her eldest son, Bill. Adrianna had a child-like innocence to her that made her look youthful. It was evident that Adrian had inherited most of his looks from his mother. She was relatively tall and scarily thin, exacerbated by her tight black robes. They gaped at the front to show off her prominent collarbones.

"But he did," Adrian mentioned again, his voice definite and full of fury.

Molly could hear the twins laughing as they walked inside the hospital room along with Arthur and Bill, whom had taken the twins, Ginny and Ron out to get candy since they were so tired of _'watching Percy sleep'_. The twins seemed to understand more of the implications, but they were very good at hiding their concern yet voicing it out at the moments that Molly did not expect it the most.

"Look at the bright side, mum," Bill said in a voice just as watery as Charlie's. "At least he's resting."

"Aye," Adrian muttered sarcastically. "Never mind the fact that he's in a _bloody coma_. He should be _refreshed_ when he—"

Almost instantly with the twins' laugh, Percy laughed – a cacophonous laughter that was not the least bit endearing. This was followed by a sudden and unexpected whimper as a few tears ran down Percy's cheeks. Percy took short and sharp inhales, almost like he could not get enough air into his small lungs. Molly's heart sank into her chest as she realised that the elixir's effects were wearing off as Percy's face contorted with an expression of torment. Blue eyes fluttered open, distracting Adrian from his statement.

A bright smile etched onto Adrian's features, as he wrapped his arms around Percy as tightly as possible, pulling him into a sitting position.

 _"PERCY!"_ Adrian exclaimed, followed by, _"You're awake!"_

Percy let his arms loosely wrap around Adrian, saying nothing.

He glanced back at the calendar placed on the wall just beside a big clock, and looked to be relieved when he'd registered what date it was. It seemed to Molly that Percy was wondering if him being in the hospital interfered with his school curriculum. The thought made her smile weakly because it was just so _typical_ of him. However, the smile instantly disappeared when she realised that her son would most likely be involved in a trial with that- _that_... _that monster of a man_ and her insides started to churn. Only when Percy was admitted to the hospital did Charlie confess to knowing more about this Caius Flint bollocks that he'd let on... _and he'd never told her?_ Molly was furious upon figuring this out. She felt like she should've been clued in!

"Let him breathe a little," Arthur mentioned in a low voice towards Adrian, whom instantaneously moved away.

"You startled me so much, Percival!" Molly couldn't stop herself from starting on her son, no matter how bad of a condition he was in. She had to. She'd been worried for days now, wondering when Percy was going to wake up. "Do you know how scared I was when Bill happened to find you in the woods, having have lost a good percentage of your blood at _SIX IN THE MORNING_?"

Percy flinched, as Molly continued to shriek.

"And- _AND DID YOU EVER THINK TO SEND AN OWL TO ME, MENTIONING THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE ANGERED A DERANGED PSYCHOPATH?!"_

"I'm sorry," Percy suddenly mentioned, his voice small, squeaky and cracked.

"Come here," Molly immediately said, voice scratchy before she wrapped her arms around his skinny frame. She felt her heart thud harder every time he inhaled. "We have to talk about something. It's-it's—it's related to your seizures, Percy. It's _important_. It's..."

"They're going to take me away, aren't they?" Percy said, his voice faint. He looked so weak. Molly could barely think that he might be shoved into one of those unsanitary, cruel wards where they would treat Percy more like a disease they had to cure before it spread. "I couldn't stop, mum. _I couldn't stop_."

His hands were shaking slightly before he explained, "I don't know what I've done."

"I'll tell you what you've done, mate," Adrian began to chirp in an excited and amazed voice. "You've given that ruddy git a taste of his own medicine! You know, I don't know how you got the glumbumbles to poke him so many times but good on you, Perce! And-and- _and_ the healers can't really do much for the lad either! It's hilarious... he's got so much glumbumble poison in his serum he's probably going to stay glum for a long, long time. Serves him right for raising his hand on his own son."

Adrian's eyes glittered as he said, "They can barely dilute the poison, did you know?" this inquiry was immediately followed by him energetically mentioning, " _And the blisters?_ Did you see _those_? Or the _boils_?"

Percy stared at Adrian like his mate was an absolute lunatic.

"This is supposed to be something I'm _proud_ of?" Percy's voice was high and his unused voice was scratchy. "I am not going to take pride in endangering another man's life, no matter how scandalous he was."

Arthur seemed to agree that Percy shouldn't have done anything to jeopardise the man's life.

Molly, too, agreed. Caius Flint might not bounce back from this, and that was not definitely something that Molly wanted her son to take pride in. She didn't want Percy to think that it was justifiable or that his actions were moral just because Caius Flint was not the most moral man. However, Molly felt no sympathy for Caius Flint himself, or the situation he'd wrangled himself in. She did not care about how bad or well off he was, considering what he'd done to her son.

"I...I couldn't stop it," Percy repeated, his eyes large as they shone brightly with remorse.

His small hands were curled up into fists, and he looked close to tears. "He used the Cruciatus on me. I think that's what set it off. I didn't mean to. I..."

Percy's face was etched in genuine disbelief. "I couldn't stop..."

Molly placed a hand on his shoulder, as he turned to look away. She had heard stories of how the pain of the Cruciatus curse felt like. She heard tales about how it was different for different people, or that it was just a dial up from the worst pain one had ever experienced. She did not know what it was, but all she knew was that it was called an Unforgiveable for a reason and that whilst her son was feeling the worst pain in his entire life, she was laid on her bed, asleep.

"It's alright, Perce," was Bill's reply. "He hurt you first."

Percy's eyebrows knitted together. He looked like he'd aged ten years. "No, it's _not_."

STANDING weakly by Caius Flint's room, Percy flicked his eyes towards the floor before flicking it back towards the off-white door. He let himself open the door and walk into the room. He closed it almost instantly, his heart beating fast. Percy did not have much time, as his family (and Adrian and his mum) were due to come by any minute now.

Percy turned to see Caius Flint lying there – obviously nothing like the smug man that Percy had met many moons ago. Every inch of his skin was covered in bulbous painful looking abscesses. Even the skin that constituted his mouth and eyelids were covered in them. They looked extremely tender. Percy could imagine that any pressure or contact with anything (even air) made them feel sore.

A pang of guilt filled his chest and dropped down to his stomach. He felt as if he'd just ingested lead.

Percy looked down at the ground and looked up again, noticing a small bundle sat beside Caius Flint. Percy's heart hammered into his chest seeing Marcus sat beside the man. He looked so _little_ that Percy did not even notice him until he paid close attention. It was odd seeing that Marcus was still in uniform, which made Percy wonder if Marcus even owned anything that wasn't his uniform.

Marcus' eyes met with Percy's at the same time.

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could he say to Marcus? He was standing beside the man whom had abused him for Merlin-knew-how-long and he was in absolute torment. It took a few minutes for Percy to notice a white wire hooked Marcus' elfish body (it felt _wrong_ to Percy to describe a _part-troll's_ body body as _elfish_ ), and a loop connecting it to a magically charmed muggle device. Caius Flint had a similar loop connected to the machine.

"Marcus," Percy walked towards him, his voice soft. He turned to look at Caius Flint, whose eyes were wide open now, and there was a certain vacant emptiness to them that made Percy's skin crawl. "Caius," Percy said, not meaning to say the man's name. He _definitely_ meant to call him _Mr Flint_.

 _"What did you do to him?"_ Marcus looked over at Percy. "What did you do to _me_?"

Percy had opened his mouth to speak again, but nothing came out when he realised that whatever spell or potion Caius Flint used on Marcus' teeth was probably _blood_ magic. This meant, Percy rationalised, that if Caius' blood was poisoned, _Marcus'_ would be too. It definitely explained the loop, and it definitely added on to whatever incriminating evidence that Henry Wells had against Caius Flint. Instead of feeling triumphant, all he felt was remorse condensing in his belly. He didn't even know that it was possible to feel any worse, but knowing that Marcus was torn into the middle of this was terrifying.

"I'm sorry," Percy finally commented.

Marcus laughed. It sounded drab and uninspired, and actually made a cold shiver run down Percy's spine because it hurt the redhead to know that this was _his_ fault.

 _"Get out,"_ Marcus hissed out, eyes darkening. Percy had never quite seen Marcus like this. He was not threatening violence. He just looked—tired; absolutely and utterly exhausted.

Percy opened his mouth to reiterate his statement, but he'd lost his nerve.

Barging into the room unexpectedly was Charlie Weasley, whom had a discontent look on his soft features. Percy often forgot that Charlie was dotted and freckled like the rest of them because his freckles were so light that often they were only very noticeable in certain lighting... like the lighting in this room. It graced his freckles in a way that made him look oddly vulnerable. The discontentment had melted into apprehension.

"Marcus, I'm sorry," Percy finally found the small amount of courage in his body. "Mr Flint, I'm sorry."

Caius Flint's eyes had darkened to the point that they seemed to be black in the dimly lit hospital room. It was odd that the lightning seemed so dim yet the white in the hospital room was still nearly blinding.

"Get out, Weasel," Marcus repeated. "Get out."

The tension in the room seemed so thick it could be cut with a knife, yet Charlie was able to dissipate the awkwardness hanging in the air. " _Your father_ touched my brother and _Percy's_ the one apologising? Your bloody father laid a hand on him, did you know that? Is that bloody news to you? You should know it, and you should be bloody ashamed of yourself for sticking up for this arsehole—"

Charlie's voice wavered off when he felt Percy nudge at his side, and shaking his head.

"Let's just leave," Percy pleaded. "I—"

Marcus' voice was high and abrupt. "Stay," he said, directly to Percy before he looked over at Charlie and muttered a "Get out."

Marcus climbed off the chair and walked over towards Percy. The closer that Marcus was, the more Percy was aware of how different and frail Marcus looked like. Once towering over Percy at five-foot-eleven in his young age, he was now only merely an inch taller than Percy. His bones seemed to be disintegrating, and there a sunken look to his skin and eyes. It almost made Percy wish that he had never noticed Marcus' bruising and that he was never involved, considering that before getting involved, Marcus had made an effort to keep up the facade that he was just fine. Now, he seemed to have ceased to force himself to wake up for as many classes as he should or eat as much as he should. He did not bother covering up any of his suspicious behaviours, and it actually made Percy ill.

"What did he do?" Marcus suddenly asked.

It just dawned on Percy that Marcus didn't know that Caius had attacked Percy first, and had assumed that it was the other way around. Merlin no! Percy wouldn't resort to violence as a first tactic. Besides, it wasn't _exactly_ like he could stop himself from having a seizure.

"Nothing," Percy said almost all of a sudden, voice acerbic.

"It isn't _nothing.._." Marcus looked irritated. "I'm not stupid."

"How are you so sure it's not nothing?" Percy spat back up into his face, not intending to be cruel. He did, however, intend to make a point. "You've said it before, haven't you? It's none of your business. It's nothing and I'm perfectly fine."

Marcus' cheeks coloured into a deep burgundy colour.

Percy turned around, rubbing his arm. "It's different now that the table's turned, hasn't it, Marcus?"

He turned to Caius Flint, whom was staring with admirable eyes. He did not know how Caius Flint thought, but whilst he did seem angry, the anger was not projected to Percy himself. It almost looked like he was _commending_ Percy for what he'd done to him. A shiver ran down Percy's spine as he left the ward, catching Charlie standing just right beside the door, obviously eavesdropping when he shouldn't have been.

Percy still felt guilty but he pushed that feeling away. It was _not_ his fault that he was _ill_.

As selfish as it was, he did not want to end up in a ward, but he couldn't help but feel that Caius Flint's stare and admiration was only to let him know that they were playing games. Percy did not like this game because he already knew the outcome. There will be no winners. It was only a matter a fact of which failure was more imminent and disastrous than the other. If one piece fell, they would all fall down together...

THE moment that Percy had come home, he'd run up to the lavatory, locked the door, placed his head into his hands and let tears stream down his cheeks. He cried so hard that he had to bite his lower lip to prevent himself from letting out a sob, but a few soft sobs had escaped his mouth. He cried so hard that his head was pounding by the time that he was finished. He cried so hard that he could hear the boys back at Hogwarts, jeering at him inconsistently about the fact that he attempted to run away from his house before; that he was an ungrateful, little weed. With eyes rimmed red and nose stuffy, he went to wash his face as thoroughly as possible and sat it out until the redness dimmed down.

After he left the bathroom, he had gone to his room, collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep. He wasn't being a very good host to Adrian but Adrian did not seem to mind and the only reason the black-haired boy had attempted to shake Percy was to call him downstairs for dinner.

Percy sat up, trying to ignore the soreness in his back. He looked to see that he'd had a blanket wrapped on his frame, something that he did not have when he had fallen asleep. Percy felt oddly out of place in the room. He once accepted this room as his own, but now, he felt like he shouldn't have. He felt as if he didn't deserve this room at all and that he should be minimising his usage of it.

Adrian's chatter turned to Quidditch matches. Percy half-heartedly listened.

His leg was hurting him more than usual and Percy felt like he'd rather not walk again in his life than feel the sheer pain accompanied by his wound, which did not look like it had really fully healed even though it had been months since Percy's scraped his leg. Somehow, his mind had flickered back to his short time with Lucius Malfoy. The silver-haired blond had called him an anomaly, something that was just not right. Percy had pushed it away but now, he knew that it was only a _truth_. Just like the fact that his father wanted to replace him was a _truth_. The painful things that people had said to him were not lies like he wanted it to be. Malfoy just had enough respect for the redhead to treat him exactly as others thought of him, and that thought was sickening.

Percy let the pain fuel a fire in him as Adrian chirped, changing the topic to something about him about to smell something off about an Acid Pop and thus had never been a victim to them.

Percy suddenly swore to make his parents' lives easier. He had to stop wasting so much of his parents' valuable resources on him. He was insignificant. He had always believed that rules were implemented for practical reasons. The law said that epileptics were dysfunctional and unstable for a reason. This meant he was included. He was not a person anymore. He was a consequence of something that would not have happened if he had abided by the rules in the first place. He had broken a rule and now, he was in his own personal hell, as he would be for this year and many others to come. He tried to cheat the system and the system fought back viciously. The reality of the statement was slowly unravelling itself bit by bit. He was less than just blood, meat and bone connected together. He had taken his parents in vain and surrounded himself by the illusion that he was a victim.

He was _never_ a victim.

 _"ACCIO Percy's scarf!"_ Molly's voice pulled Percy out of his reverie. He was sure that Adrian knew that Percy wasn't listening but still was going on with his anecdote.

The green-and-silver scarf suddenly whizzed its way into the room and around Percy's neck almost instantly, causing Molly to laugh lightly. He felt his depressive mood dial down immensely when the scarf was around his neck for some reason. Perhaps, it was because it smelled of _Penelope_.

"This is the one that Penelope Clearwater made you, isn't it?" Molly suddenly asked.

Percy nodded his head, flushing deeply.

"And Penelope is _just a friend_ I'm presuming?" Molly asked, only for Percy to nod his head again. He could see Adrian smirking and wiggling his eyebrows, to which Percy responded to by shooting him a glare.

When they were called to the dinner table, Percy found himself flicking his thoughts to the first few days of Hogwarts. He remembered how irritated he had been to hear Marcus laughing at two in the morning in their dormitories. He remembered Terence's terrible jokes, often trying to be as offensive as possible (succeeding in offending Penelope when Percy had reiterated them). He remembered how confused he felt like when he realised that Miles Bletchley fancied this lass that once stuck a raw egg down Miles' pants. He remembered Adrian refusing to take off his shoes for the first two days because ' _the floor was so mucky!'_ Remembering made him calm down a lot, and he felt very much at home all of a sudden. This dissipated when the silence was broken and Ron seemed to have accidentally spilled a semi-hot cup of tea on himself. The screams and the haphazardness left an uneasy feeling in Percy's belly.

Speaking of his belly, his mum had set out the task of piling Percy's plate like never before. Percy swore that there was more food on his plate than there was on the whole ruddy table!

Bill was talking about his new job at Gringott's, and no other conversation was taking place. Molly cut in every now and then, insisting that he looked for another job.

Percy felt relieved that he was fading into the background—that was until the twins reminded him of how much they missed him by flinging spoonfuls of mashed potato in his direction. Adrian seemed to think this was very fun and was throwing back bits of chopped carrots. Molly was not amused.

Dinner passed with Percy stomaching cabbage, bread and potato. When his mum broke out pudding however, Percy felt a bit more enthusiastic. He and Adrian tucked into half a bloody cake all by themselves, which was perhaps not the smartest thing to do. Bogged by stodgy carbohydrates, Percy tried to ease his protruding, full stomach with a cup of tea... and then somehow concluded that it was wise to follow this with enough Quality Streets and bourbon biscuits to feed the whole of Hogwarts.

He did not think of Caius Flint once throughout the night.

 _WHY didn't the glumbumbles attack me?_ Percy wondered, as he turned to his side that fateful night. He knocked over the tree and they attacked Caius Flint, but they didn't attack him. Percy tried to think of something else, so his thoughts had turned to the strange voice he heard in the water, when Adrian had fallen into the lake...

He knew that they would have to take him all to trial now, but he couldn't imagine the consequences. Percy sat up when he heard a sound from outside, and look outside to see Marcus Flint, holding nothing more than his wand. Again, he was in his Hogwarts uniform, which looked terribly tattered. Percy didn't think this was unusual considering Marcus seemed to wear only two articles of clothing. It seemed that Adrian was distracted by the noise as well and hopped up from the mattress almost immediately afterwards.

They descended downstairs together; confused at what Marcus was doing around the Burrow (or how he even knew where the Burrow was!) in the middle of the night.

"You don't have to worry about a trial," was the first thing that Marcus said.

"Nice to see you too," Adrian murmured sarcastically before Marcus' statement sunk. " _What?_ What do you mean?"

Marcus' eyes looked hollow. "They're thinking of taking my father as a permanent resident in St Mungo's, under chronically insane because he is so _depressed_ ," he said the last bit with spite. "He can't do a trial because he's _mad_."

"That's hardly fair!" Adrian hissed angrily. "If the Aurors don't do anything about your father, Marc—(' _don't call me, Marc_ ,' interrupted Marcus at this point)—then I'm going to get that bastard sent to Azkaban myself!"

"If you bloody do as much as touch my father, Pucey..." Marcus started to threaten, his eyes hardening.

Adrian didn't seem to understand why Marcus was defending Caius Flint. "He hurt you, and then he lied about it. Then he hurt Percy and lied about it. Now, he's off pretending to be mad and giving all the _actually mad people_ a bad image! How could you defend that bloody git—?"

"Can it, Pucey," Marcus did not give any reason for why he did defend his father, but Percy could guess the reason was because they were blood-bound and they were family. Percy shuddered because he didn't think that he would think much of his own father if Arthur ever dared lay his hand on him.

Adrian only offered a sheepish smile.

"Mum's sending me to bloody Durmstrang," Marcus suddenly said. "We're only staying there for a while. Mum's a little shaken up because of what's happened and isn't keen on staying round Britain anymore. She doesn't want to be working in the hospital that Father's in. She doesn't think she'd be able to resist burning down the whole ward with him in it."

"She didn't know?" Adrian concluded. "About what he did to—?"

Marcus arched an eyebrow. "Of course not."

"Wait," Adrian looked like he was about to go insane. "You mean that we could've just sent a letter to _your mum_ and avoided this whole bloody catastrophe?"

Marcus only glared over at Adrian, but Percy realised that it was true. If Marcus' mum loved him, then she'd waste no time in making sure that Marcus was safe from Caius Flint. Percy vaguely recalled that she used to send him boxes of dark chocolate frogs, which he always used to thrust towards Adrian. Adrian did not like dark chocolate much but didn't seem to mind polishing off the lot for Marcus. If they _did_ send all their letters and evidence to Marcus' mum in the first place, then they could've stopped this whole catastrophe from forming! As Percy realised how ludicrous this was, he couldn't help but laugh. Adrian seemed to have caught on and laughed as well. Oh, they'd _only_ bloody gotten the Ministry, St Mungo's and a whole forest's worth of glumbumbles involved into Marcus' situation!

"What are you laughing about?" Marcus asked, looking irritated that he wasn't involved.

Oh Merlin, Percy shook his head, laughter lines apparent on his face as he continued to guffaw. It was then that it dawned on Percy that Marcus was _safe_. Percy couldn't stop smiling at the realisation. Needless to say, he did not feel guilty anymore regarding what he'd done to Caius Flint considering how he'd continued to manipulate the situation at hand.

Caius Flint was not prepared to lose and Percy managed to avoid the ward... _for now_.

ON a cold January morning at around five in the morning, a few minutes after Marcus' proclamations about a lack of trial and Adrian's continuous rant about how Marcus' bastard of a father got out of a trial, there was an interesting and much-appreciated shift in time that Percy felt was noticeable.

Time slowed down, and Percy realised very much, in the few seconds where time froze and his heart slowed down, that he was very _alive_.

Percy felt as if a large coat that was bogging him down for a while was shed. The coat was no longer wearing him down and he could run as fast and as far as he'd always wanted to go. He felt lighter than the whipped cream on his fingers as he made warm hot chocolate with Adrian and Marcus. They passed around New Years' resolutions like they passed around dark, white and milk chocolate shavings. Adrian resolved to eat less sugar (he said, as he consumed a large sugary hot chocolate with all the fixings). Marcus resolved to try not to waste too much parchment paper in useless essays. Percy tutt-tutted and mentioned that Marcus _had_ to do his essays. This was followed by Adrian taking back his resolution about cutting sugar and insisting that joining the Quidditch team in their second year was a far more realistic goal. This also resulted into Adrian adding more shaved chocolate to his hot chocolate whereas Marcus rolled his eyes, toying with the rim of his water-diluted uninspired hot chocolate.

Percy resolved _not_ to get sent into the infirmary or St Mungo's this year—either to get into the death ward, or as a result of scrapes, contusions and injuries. He had counted that for over half the Hogwarts' semester, Percy was sat in the infirmary, _missing classes_. In fact, Pomfrey had a cot made in the infirmary _specifically_ for him! This was unacceptable, especially since Snape genuinely believed that Percy caused himself distress so that he wouldn't to go to classes whereas in reality, the only thing stopping Percy from attending his classes _with_ his multiple injuries was a cross Pomfrey (who was _nearly_ as bad as a cross Molly).

At around six in the morning, Adrian drained his hot chocolate and decided that perhaps, he was rethinking his New Years' resolutions again.

Percy couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.


	27. Chapter 27

_this chapter took me a week and a half to write._ _this one has been retouched and done up so many times it probably looks nothing like it was originally... in fact, i still have the backup draft which focused more on Percy and Arthur but this scene doesn't even do much past mention Arthur (and that 1 or 2 sentences don't mention him in a positive light either). it's almost like starting a new story (and i loathe starting new stories. if i can't get the beginning right then the whole thing's a bunch of bollocks) considering how difficult it was to implement this part of Percy's life efficiently._

 _Percy's volunteer work will be better explained in the subsequent chapters (at least that's what i've got planned) and there will be an exploration of the relationships he had before and the dynamic change. as always, the warnings still stand:_ _ **isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**._ _also, there is so much **sexual topics talk,** but not really a scene or anything. it's mostly just implications and ideas of who does what, where and how. maybe even a why. there's also a **very** disturbing image in this particular chapter... you'll know it when you get there, but aye, i couldn't re-write it somehow. _

_i absolutely adore this chapter. if only all chapters was as good as this one, then i could stop editing the bloody thing so much!_

 _the **French** in this chapter... well, a friend helped do that bit for me. i know very little French but what little i understood from it seemed to make some sense to me._

 _ **general statement, since it's been bought up a couple of times already (and a bit of a spoiler alert):** Percy isn't going to die in this fanfic. mostly because the ending i have planned doesn't call for death. if i do kill him, it'll be an unnecessary death without much substance to it. however... i cannot guarantee that other characters won't snuff it,  whether it be intentional or not. the reason i put these warnings is because 90% of the time i have no idea where the fanfic will take itself, but i have the majority of this particular fanfic planned. i have at least one scene in mind but i'm not sure which character i want to die in that particular scene. if i was to go along with it. _

**_replies to any other inquiries:_**

 _ **Ward Vermassen** : thus far, the interaction between Percy and Harry is so minimal but it'll probably grow with him being prefect and all (and Ron as well). though i will probably make it minimal for fear of making either Harry or Ron OOC. i've read so many bashing fanfics i've forgotten how poor Ron is actually like at this point. though the next few chapters is a summer re-tell. i absolutely adore your comments! and as i stated up there, don't worry about Percy dying. at least not in this fanfic. _

_**Phoenixx Rising** : i'm wondering what you're thinking. the actual plot is somewhat explained at Chapter 32. "Is Marcus actually going to Durmstrang? That would totally suck." aye, bye bye Marcus for now, but he'll come back. he's an important character. _

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven

* * *

 _Brilliant_. Percy thought to himself, as he stormed down St Mungo's corridors, fuming. His skin was flushed into a rubicund hue, and his cheeks were puffed and red. His extremely freckled and exceedingly scrawny chest was exposed—which happened to be covered in a thick, sticky layer of a white substance. _Just brilliant!_

A few nurses around him tried to stifle their giggles as he passed, to which Percy shot an icy look at them.

Percy managed to get around to the boys' locker room without anymore incriminating comments regarding the amorphous muggy and viscous substance streaked across his chest.

Yes, Percy knew how it looked like... No, he would not learn how to swallow better next time!

That inane old coot he had to see on his rounds in the Geriatrics unit this morning— _Mr Roberts_ —decided to down a warming potion when his nurse wasn't looking because ' _he fancied a drink with a kick'_ and the senile, blind bat couldn't tell the difference between the amber colour of a firewhiskey bottle and the bright red colour of a warming potion!

To add insult to injury, Roberts had already spiked a forty degree fever before he decided to take aforementioned warming potion... which made his temperature rise to around fifty-three degrees ( _"Oh, that firewhiskey sure packed a punch now, didn't it?"_ Mr Roberts serenely asked, as Percy hysterically looked for a cooling potion before that man's purposeless neurons started to disintegrate and his brain would start to liquefy). When Percy managed to shove down two things of cooling potions down Mr Robert's throat, it was too late—for Mr Roberts' magical IV line had gotten to the point where it could barely cope with Roberts' body temperature and spontaneously burst, sending white, waxy slime all over Percy's skinny frame... that refused to wash off with a quick wash in the sink at the far corner of the room. It didn't take long for one of the nurses to mention he'd need to siphon off the liquid with a _Tergeo_.

Unfortunately for Percy, the nurses around him were too busy laughing their arses off to siphon that thing off, which thereby led to poor Percy walking down to the boys' locker rooms to find his wand... but not before the whole of the hospital found it in them to make every sexual implication under the sun.

This day could _not_ get any worse.

PERCY threw his shirt—which was dissolving thanks to its contact with the magical IV fluid—to the bench, trying to ignore the vigorous laughing when he'd properly entered the locker room. Percy opened his locker.

"Oi, Wonder Weasel," the irritating sound of one thirteen-year-old Roger Davies, whom had his hands in the pockets of his fairly tight pants. It looked like it had been painted on him. It took all of Percy's mental energy not to transfigure the syringe in his pocket into a sledgehammer. "Is _that_ your mum?"

Percy turned around to see a vibrant-looking redheaded girl blush deeply. She was inappropriately dressed to say the least; her black undergarments barely leaving much to the imagination. Uncouth and rude comments from the boys around her made Percy's blood boil even more. The lass flushed into a hue and with watery, tearful eyes mentioned an _I'm sorry_ before she ran out of the room.

Percy's patience had immediately worn thin, and he grabbed Davies by the collar of his shirt.

"You're an animal," Percy spat out coldly, making a mental note to go check up on that girl after he was done with his final shift today, "And if you dare talk about _my mother_ in that manner ever again..."

Roger stiffened but then melted. "I'm not afraid of you, Weasel. You're nothing but a cowardly lion."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "And you're nothing but a pitiless, repugnant womaniser that is attempting to compensate for his inadequate—"

"Weasel, is _that_ your _mum_?" another question came from another black-haired Ravenclaw that seemed to want Percy to ram his fist through that pretentious little face of his. Percy turned around, quite ready to see another poor lass that got lost since they'd swapped the girls' and boys' locker room location, only to find Molly Weasley actually standing there with a shocked expression littering her pale face, and a bundle of knitted fabric into her pudgy arms. She looked surprised to see that Percy was in the middle of a quarrel.

"Mum?" Percy seemed surprised to find her here, and then flushed when he remembered the gelatinous pale liquid spluttered all over his chest. "This is _not_ what it looks like!"

A chorus of laughter went round the boys' locker room, as Roger Davies threw on a thick black jumper. They left, but not before one of them leaned forward and whispered something into Molly's ear that made her honey-rimmed brown eyes widen. Knowing Lance, Percy was sure that he had hit on his mother, which made him yell out: "Oh, come off it, Webster! As if my mum would ever give a fumbling tosser like you a second look even if she wasn't happily married," fifteen-year-old Percy snapped coldly.

" _Percy!_ Don't talk like that!" Molly seemed surprised at this before she pulled out a tissue from her overstuffed, nearly fallen-apart violet purse and then tried to wipe away the gummy substance on Percy's chest. When it wouldn't wipe away, she pulled out a wand and muttered a _Tergeo_ , allowing it to vanish to showcase the splatter of freckles that it was hiding. "I know you're a healthy young man and that it's natural to experiment. Sex is a natural thing and nothing to be ashamed of, love but to do it in the _hospital_ —"

"Mum, no!" Percy had all but turned into a beetroot red. "I've only had a magical IV line break is all."

Silently, he thought to himself: _I'm not at all surprised you find intercourse natural but I promise you that there is nothing natural about six pregnancies, mother_.

Molly seemed surprised as she watched Percy turn around and pick up his wand to siphon off the remaining liquid from his shirt. "Oh, is that poor old soul alright? A magical IV line break! That's... that's something devastating, isn't it? But I wouldn't know, love, I'm not smart with these medical things like you are..."

Percy's cheeks coloured in deeply. "He's just fine. He's just, _err_... medium well."

Molly arched her eyebrow in confusion and Percy didn't bother explaining.

"What are you doing here, mum? In the boys' locker room? In St Mungo's?" Percy smoothed over his chocolate-brown tweed trousers before he picked up his clipboard. He took one long look at it before his head started to pound. He'd been here since six o'clock. It was nearing three and he had one more round... his most unpleasant one with Lola Hansen.

Molly sighed deeply and placed a hand on his arm. "I thought you were already done. I wanted to apparate you to Diagon Alley just before dinner tonight to help pick out your birthday present."

"Pardon?" fifteen-year-old Percy raised an eyebrow at his mother.

"Your birthday present, Percival," Molly repeated before offering him a knitted jumper (his genuine saving grace as his other option was to go visit Hansen bare-chested). He pulled the carrot-coloured jumper over his frame, grimacing at the thought of wearing something that exaggerated his hair colour. "Today is your birthday... isn't it? It's—"

"My birthday was days ago," Percy reminded her.

"No," Molly said, her face becoming paler. "That's not possible. Your birthday is on—"

"The twenty-second," Percy flicked his wand towards the direction of the calendar sitting beside a map that showed the layout of St Mungo's. The calendar, of course, was clearly dated to the twenty-fifth. Percy pulled out his rucksack from the locker before giving his black _ST MUNGO'S VOLUNTEERING_ badge a polish.

"Oh, I'm so—" Molly's voice was soft, and she squeaked when she felt something run up to her shoulders.

 _"PERCY!"_

"Mum, it's fine," Percy grabbed the plump grey-furred rat from her shoulders before placing the rodent into his pocket. "It's just Scabbers. He's probably just missed me whilst he was waiting for me to come home is all and decided to have a lovely, short trip to the hospital with you—"

 _"LOVELY TRIP?!"_ Molly exclaimed, glaring pointedly at Scabbers. _"One day, I'll roast that filthy rat!"_

Percy grimaced. "Mum, Scabbers isn't filthy! I've given him a long bath this morning! He's perfectly clean," he exclaimed, taking the rat out of his pocket again only to stroke his fur just a little bit, smiling over at him. "Has he finished the food I've left for him?"

Molly just grumbled under her breath, before she caught sight of the calendar again as they left. A taken back and remorseful Molly placed a hand on Percy's freckled arm as they passed by the hallway back down to the Geriatric unit.

"I'm-I'm so sorry, love," Molly's wobbly voice was full of unwavering emotion. "I thought today was the twenty-second. I don't know what's come over me. It looks like your old mum should be put into the Geriatric unit herself—"

"It's fine," Percy said with little emotion in his voice as he placed Scabbers back into the front pocket of his shirt. He did not sound irritated or offended, as he stared back at his clipboard with contempt. Percy's doom was waiting for him in Room 420B, whom had a pending daily anti-arthritic potion she should've taken promptly at eight. It was now _well_ past eight... Percy didn't know if he'd rather see Lola Hansen, or have a repeat of last Christmas where he'd accidentally caught sight of Aunt Muriel in her knickers—that was if it was appropriate to call them knickers. He'd rather call them tents with holes.

This day was absolutely dreadful, but at least he hadn't run into that _witch_ , Penelope Clearwater, who often had the same rounds as him! Last time she'd given him his to-do clipboard (that magically ticked itself when he completed a task), Percy had to inspect aforementioned clipboard for any eagle droppings.

PERCY stepped into Lola Hansen's room, noticing the seventy-year-old white-haired woman was sat in her cot and going off at another nurse in very colourful French. Said nurse did not speak a word of French and looked mildly nauseous and traumatised as Hansen waved round a blood-flavoured lollipop (Percy wished not to understand the context of this situation). Percy offered his clipboard back to a bewildered Molly, whom was raising an eyebrow over at Hansen's uncalled fury. He pulled off his glasses to give them a good polish before putting them back on and said:

« Mademoiselle Hansen, on m'a envoyé ici-bas car vous n'avez pas pris vos potions. » (1)

Hansen's displeasure seemed to escalate, as she responded: « Je les ai prises. » (2)

Percy raised an eyebrow as he picked up his clipboard from his mum, whom seemed to be standing there with her mouth wide open, discombobulated. « C'est ne pas ce que le tableau montre… ou les infirmières, d'ailleurs. » (3) After waving the clipboard in front of her face. Her face contorted in a way that made Percy believed that she seemed to take it as a personal insult on behalf of her ability to read (which Percy never questioned). He stated: « Mademoiselle Hansen, mon supérieur insiste sur le changement de votre ordonnance orale a un suppositoire. » (4)

At the idle threat that Percy had just given her, the woman wailed out: « Bien sur, il l'a suggéré. Ce sera une belle façon de ma baiser dans le cule. » (5)

Percy's cheeks were hot and red by then. He was glad that his mum (hopefully) did not speak a word of French because the last thing he needed was this woman's vulgarity ruining his _spiffy_ day. Percy turned to pick up a bottle of a near colourless liquid and offered it to the woman, whom simply shook her head with a look of absolute scorn burning in her waxen features.

« Mademoiselle Hansen, essayez de coopérer, s'il vous plaît. » (6)

The woman finally took the bottle from Percy's hands and took a quick gulp of the liquid.

Percy felt an instant relief wash over him. He thought that he was going to have to call in for backup and have to force her potion down her throat as last time, where Percy came home with scratches on his back from where the woman physically assaulted him during his shift.

He glanced back at his clipboard and whilst knowing he'd regret it, he asked: « Pourquoi n'avez-vous pas pris vos médicaments ? » (7)

Percy already assumed her reason regarding not taking the potion was poor. There was a red tick next to the task, and but a blank towards the question that Percy had asked... for his superior was keen on the fact that he'd to uncover the reason for why Hansen was so unhappy regarding her daily prescription—not that the cocky bastard would do anything to change it if he figured out why she didn't like it in the first place!

« Bon, mon cher Percival, s'il le faut savoir, c'est parce que maintenant mon sang menstruel est pourpre » (8) was what the bat responded with.

Percy's entire face had gone beetroot red as the answer filled into his clipboard, in French of course... Percy did not know how to translate it to his superior without dying of the utmost humiliation. He was sure that the healer-in-training would _love_ to hear all about what shade of purple Miss Hansen's menstrual blood was at! Percy had heard that in the muggle world, women went through menopause in their forties or fifties. What lucky sods! In the wizarding world, Percy would be hard pressed to find that an eighty-year-old woman whom had already gone through the bloody (no pun intended) thing!

« Euh… Je relaie ca au guérisseur pratiquant… bonne journée, Madame. » (9)

Percy turned around to leave. His mum opened his mouth to speak, before an ear-curdling scream was elicited from the seventy-year-old senile bat's mouth.

« IL Y A UN RAT DANS LA PIECE ! TUEZ CET ETRE DEGOUTANT ! » (10)

Scabbers? He looked at his empty pocket with a terrible realisation. Percy's heart was racing as he looked through the room with a terrified expression etching on his face.

Where was _Scabbers_?

That was when he saw his poor little rat tread from underneath the bed, with one of the nurses walking right in with wands out and trying to blast Scabbers before Percy told them otherwise. And what could he really tell the nurses pray tell? _I'm sorry but my mum has accidentally brought my pet rat to the hospital?_

Percy jolted, as the woman's shrieks got louder the closer that Scabbers was to her hospital cot.

« Non, Mademoiselle Hansen, je vous assure que Croûtard n'est pas du tout dégoûtant. Il est en fait très net. Je lui ai juste donne un bain ce matin. » (11)

 _Scabbers is not filthy,_ Percy thought to himself. _He's cleaner than the bloody twins!_

Percy found Scabbers nestling in a little corner and ran towards him, but Scabbers ran away. The unfortunate thing was so frightened that he ran away from everything. Attempting to calm his rat down, Percy cooed to Scabbers in French: « T'es net, Croûtard, n'est pas ? » (12)

That was when Scabbers did his ultimate mistake by climbing up to Hansen's bedside and eliciting a yelp so loud that an aggregate of nurses stormed into the room almost like they were recruits for a second wizarding war. A few seconds ago, there had been blasts of multi-coloured lights towards Scabbers but now, they'd ceased since they were trying not to harm Miss Hansen... although a few looked like they were debating it.

Miss Hansen's screams rocketed through whole bleeding room: _« JE PEUX PAS RESPIRER ! »_ (13)

Whilst the nurses stood there listlessly and his mum still had a face that made Percy that she'd been _Stupefied_ , Percy ran towards the woman and tried to wrangle Scabbers off her before Scabbers got ill from whatever this old toad was carrying round.

« Attendez, Mademoiselle Hansen, je vous assiste. _CROUTARD ! NON !_ » (14)

Scared, barmy Scabbers ran into the woman's dressing gown, bringing out an even louder sound from the woman's vocal chords. Percy tried to ignore the ringing in his ears as he got to the edge of the bed where Scabbers had popped up, bathed in a purple-red liquid. Percy was just about to hold him when he realised he'd rather Scabbers die than come in contact with anything that came out of Miss Hansen's private parts.

 _« POUR L'AMOUR DE MERLIN, TEUZ-LE AVANT QU'IL NE NOUS TUE TOUS ! »_ (15)

A nurse pulled out their wand and Percy paled when he noticed that she was pointing it towards Scabbers.

Just before the nurse could do anything, Molly had finally gotten over the temporary non-stun stun that she was in and had pulled out her wand, siphoning the liquid off Scabbers so that Percy could snatch him right up and put him in his pocket.

This was just about the muckiest, most perturbing moment in Percy's whole summer.

AS PERCY and Molly were taken towards his superior's office, which was really just a bunch of desks for healers-in-training because they weren't anywhere near qualified enough to get their own office each. Standing behind a mahogany desk was his superior, whom Percy dubbed in his head as Shoes, considering his terribly distracting choice of shoes, which happened to be fluorescent boots. He supposed that the Geriatric unit did not notice since half of them had lost sight of their vision during the first wizarding war.

"You are in _so_ much trouble," Shoes said in annoyance. "Weasel... _A RAT?_ In a Geriatric unit? What were you thinking about? You could've given that woman a coronary! You're lucky that she isn't threatening to sue any of us! And what exactly was your mother doing in the boys' locker room? I have half a mind to discredit all the work that you've done this summer over this incident!"

 _You're lucky I still have eyes after seeing Scabbers bathed in her menstrual blood_ , Percy thought. _Else that would be an interesting court case._

 _"IF YOU DARE DISCREDIT MY SON AFTER HE VOLUNTEERED TO WORK TEN HOUR SHIFTS IN THIS MERLIN FORSAKEN HOSPITAL FOR THE LAST THREE MONTHS—"_ Molly was fuming.

Shoes looked pale and had to cut an enthralled Molly off, "Don't worry, Miss! I'll just have him tide over an extra hour this week that will not be mentioned in any certification that I'll give him at the end of his three month course! I was only joking... Percy was always just a joker, wasn't he? Good humour."

Shoes gave her an uneasy smile as he nudged Percy as if to say 'please save me here.'

"Percy won't be able to tell what a joke is if he's had to study it as part of his school curriculum," Molly efficiently stated, eyes cold and hard.

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "Mum!"

"It's true, love, I'm sorry," Molly patted onto Percy's shoulder and then stormed out of the office. The fifteen-year-old wizard walked after her, trying to forget about how humiliating and terrible today had been. Scabbers wiggled around Percy's pocket, and if he decided to pull anything remotely funny, Percy was leaving him here to be blasted into a fine powder by one of the second-wizarding-war-trained-nurses.

 _At least_ , Percy concluded. _It's not my birthday_.

Else it would just be the icing on top of the proverbial cake.

"PERCY, can I ask you a question?" Molly asked, as they were walking out of the hospital together.

He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that not only did his mum visit him today whilst he had his volunteer work to complete, but she'd also seen him with a sticky white substance on his chest and assumed that he was having it off with a bloke at the hospital. Pushing aside the fact that Percy was straight as a pin, Percy didn't think he could dare do _that_ in a professional environment such as a hospital, but he supposed that schools were considered to be a 'professional environment' and Percy had definitely had his share of, um, _activities_ in Hogwarts after dark. Though to his defence, most of said 'activities' were in Hogsmeade (though he did not know if that was better or worse).

"Yes?" Percy asked, scratching his neck and staring at the sweat pouring from his skin as a consequence of wearing that jumper in the scorching British heat.

Molly's question wasn't one he expected. "When did you learn French?"

"Pardon?" Percy looked over at her and then flushed deeply. "Err... I've learned it about a few years ago."

"Percy, don't you understand? _I should've known_. I'm your _mother_ for Merlin's sake. How could I not know what languages my own son spoke?!" Molly took his shoulder and then had him look back down at her. At fifteen, Percy was six feet tall and still as scrawny as he was in his eleven years. Much to his annoyance, his freckles seemed to multiply instead of reduce. She placed a hand to his cheek and stared at him with big begging brown eyes. "You're so closed off that you're a stranger to me, love... I'm worried about you."

Percy was astonished to hear these words coming from his mother's mouth.

"Mum, I'm fine," was all that he could say before pulling her hand away from his face.

"Why didn't you remind any of us about your birthday, Percy?" Molly asked softly. Her voice was guilt-ridden and she looked like she'd aged twenty years.

Percy simply shrugged carelessly. "It isn't particularly important."

"It's your birthday, sweetheart. _Of course_ it's important," Molly crooned as she watched him put his hands in his pockets and stare down at the ground. "Come on. Let me buy you something from Diagon Alley to make it up to you. At the house, Charlie is making sure the that the Ron and Ginny don't ruin your cake. They're playing Extreme Exploding Snap—you know how one of those cards one exploded and ended up all the way from our house to the Lovegood house?"

Percy honestly wouldn't be surprised if that did happen. His feet were aching, and his dodgy leg was pulsating in the outmost pain. He could barely walk, and he wished he could tell his mum that he didn't want a gift, but he supposed that she'd just go on about how she was sorry about forgetting his birthday. Arthur would've probably just told him not to ruin it for everyone else and make a big fuss out of things because it was a 'an honest mistake.' Interestingly enough, nobody ever made such errors when it came to anyone else's birthday yet Percy had his birthday forgotten three years, haphazardly celebrated another, was caught in the woods in another (with no reproduction of the events—though he supposed it was because he was being a larger of a prat than usual those days) and just last year, they'd decided to celebrate his birthday by taking him out to play Quidditch with some famous Quidditch players since they were visiting the Ministry then. Percy didn't even like Quidditch in the slightest! Instead of allowing it to annoy him, he just tried to institute the fact that birthdays were not that big a deal. Still, his childlike heart ached.

This year, he'd genuinely forgotten that this twenty-second was his birthday until he'd done his last shift of the day and the whole of the Geriatric unit decided to surprise him with a cake—his favourite cake? How did they happen to know it? It wasn't exactly anything generic until he recalled a conversation he had with Madame Maximilian a few weeks ago when she asked him what cake he preferred. Percy was astonished at the rate that he'd been bombarded with gifts. He hadn't even opened them yet, but he was sure one of them was a broom. Every fibre in his being wanted to give it to Ron, but he knew that his accident-prone eleven-year-old brother shouldn't be given a broom.

"Percy," Molly's voice pulled him out of his reverie, "That girl has been calling you for ages!"

Percy turned his head around to notice that Penelope was trailing behind him for a while now. _Oh, just bloody great..._ as if this day wasn't phenomenal enough already!

Walking with her pale summer boots and long, flowing blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders like a serene waterfall, Penelope strode towards him with a look of determination crossing her soft features. She was wearing a rather long silken peach-coloured silken frock which hugged her curvy, voluminous figure. She had her snow-white volunteering robes on top... one that Percy would only get if he'd been volunteering for at least a year. Her scarlet red badge was pinned to the robes ( _not_ polished until glittering and gleaming like his own, he added on smugly into his mind). With every step she took, her fairly large bosom seemed to bounce. Percy would've made a comment about how she needed to shop for better undergarments, if not for the fact that it would probably cause his mum to melt down.

"What'd you say to Roger that upset him so much?" Penelope asked, raising an eyebrow. "You know how sensitive he is! I'm going to get my reform group to send you a dozen owls by the end of today on how to appropriately approach an individual that has problems effectively communicating with everyone else—"

" _I_ upset _him_?" Percy said incredulously. "I assure you, Penelope, I do not want my interactions with Roger to be civil, considering all the rubbish that he's pulled over the last week alone. He copped a feel from Madame Maximillian's daughter and thought he was doing her a service!"

Penelope was offended. "Roger would _never_ do something like that! You don't know him! He's the sweetest bloke I've ever met... he's much better than you will ever be, Percival Ignatius Weasley! I've half a mind to report you to St Mungo's for your _closeted epilepsy_ if not for the fact I don't want to deal with your _neuroses_ —"

What a blow to his _rising_ self-esteem! It was hard enough to try and hide a bloody convulsion without her making his life difficult by worrying him with that inane threat. Percy watched her storm off... he stood corrected. _That_ was the icing on top of the proverbial cake.

" _That's_ Penelope?" Molly was surprised as she watched her walk away. "But she used to love you! She—"

"Let's go home, mother," an exasperated Percy turned around, obviously wanting to close the subject.

* * *

(1) "Miss Hansen, I have been sent down here because you have not taken your potions."

(2) "I did."

(3) "That's not what the charts say... or the nurses for that matter."

(4) "Miss Hansen, my superior insisted on changing your oral prescription to a suppository."

(5) "Of course he suggested that. It'll be a nice way of fucking me in the arse."

(6) "Miss Hansen, please try and cooperate."

(7) "Why did you not take your medication?"

(8) "Well, dear Percival, if you must know, my menstrual blood is now purple thanks to your superior's prescription."

(9) "Err... I'll relay this to the practicing healer... good day, madam."

(10) "THERE'S A RAT IN THE ROOM! KILL THAT FILTHY THING!"

(11) "No, Miss Hansen, I assure you Scabbers isn't filthy at all. He's actually properly clean! I've just given him a long bath this morning!"

(12) "You're clean, aren't you, Scabbers?"

(13) "I CAN'T BREATHE!"

(14) "Hold on, Miss Hansen, I'll assist you! SCABBERS! NO!"

(15) "OH, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, KILL IT NOW BEFORE IT KILLS US!"


	28. Chapter 28

_as i remember the warnings, i will reiterate it just about once more: **isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**... that 'God know what else i decide to put in last minute' includes **suicidal ideation (possibly an attempt may it be successful or not later on) and mentions/possible illustrations of self-harm**_... _yes, the self-harm is new. the thing is, it's in the original draft so i'm inclined to add it on just in case._

 _i've mentioned this way before, but i apologise for any spelling mistakes and grammical errors thus far. hopefully, they don't deter from the story line!_

 _i had my laptop open onto the chapters, and i read them and i absolutely loathed the next ones. i deleted them, started afresh, and just got to finishing this chapter round today. **fun fact:** the breakdown scene with Percy and Molly was **not** planned. it seemed that these characters have a mind of their own. another thing that wasn't planned was the fact that i used a Bill point of view. well... it's been a while!_

 _ **replies to any inquiries in the previous chapter:**_

 _ **Sakura Lisel:** i'm not gonna lie. this comment made me die of laughter._

 _ **chemical violets** : oh god, i love your comments. they never cease to put a smile on my face, and a bit of a laugh. 15 year old Percy is less of a brat, he is... well, for the moment at least. ;) God knows what other stupid bollocks he'd be getting into with me writing and him having his own little persona whether i like it or not!_

 _ **Spirits in the Sky:** aye, but underappreciated!Percy is the best. and i've to say i loved writing Penelope suddenly so pissed off Percy when she used to adore him so much. _

_**Ward Vermassen** : my French is so rusty that you can smell the iron off it a country away. i'm not really sure about it, as a friend did it for me but she's a lit student and has French/English as majors. i absolutely adore your character breakdown of Percy. i think i've read your comment about 4 times since you've posted it. it makes sense to me though i've never really thought of it this way! kudos to you xxx_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

* * *

"Oh, Percy! What about _this_ then?" an excited Molly picked up a little beige box that had all kinds of imported raven quills that smelled of musk and wood.

Percy, who was holding a pair of gloves made out of dragonhide, tossed a look at the quills.

"Mum, whilst I do appreciate the gesture, _especially_ given their price," Percy wouldn't spend that much on a quill even if it was made primarily out of golden feathers plucked from that ruddy coward Davies' back. "I have to decline solely for the fact that I believe that a newborn doxy wouldn't be able to fit these microscopic quills into their hands. Thank you."

Molly's deep brown eyes shone in the dim lightning of the small, cramped shop. "They aren't _that_ small."

"Mum, if I was vengeful enough about what Bill's done to the patchwork blanket I've knitted for him this summer, I'd wrap one of those quills around that grotesque fang earring of his and hope that, when he's snoring, he accidentally inhales this raven feather and chokes on it," Percy said calmly, shoulders stiff and lips pressed into a tight line. "Except, perhaps it mightn't cause him to choke considering I've seen larger bacteria, so I would simply stand there looking like an absolute berk."

Molly's cheeks coloured into a vibrant red hue as she watched him put down the gloves and push up his oversized horn-rimmed glasses. "Do you want to go down to the bookstore?"

"I would love to... if not for the fact that that I have so many books that I had to dismantle my bed and construct one entirely out of ancient texts and a sticking charm," Percy droned.

He really did have so many books that he actually ran out of space in his small room to put them in. The few times that anyone walked into his room, they complained of a dire claustrophobia and a 'blinding light'. Said blinding light may or may not be attributed to the fact that Percy had a _somewhat_ bright colour-coded schematic that spanned a whole wall of exactly what text he'd bought and where he'd put it... organised in alphabetical order of course. He literally slept on his reading material every single night. As hard as Percy tried to organise his room, he simply had so many books he had to stack them up on the floor as much as he despised the idea. Percy barely had the space to manoeuvre in the bloody room himself. Many a time his barely there behind would smack up against a stack of books. Once he bought a lass to his room and she accused him of smacking her bottom, which Percy would _never_ do... well, at least a sober Percy.

"What?" Molly looked oddly surprised. "Bill did tell me something about your room looking like you've managed to condense the Hogwarts' library in less space than a troll's coffin."

Percy _did_ recall that when he was drunk he might have said something to someone about how he did have a _Restricted Section_ in his bedroom but he waved that thought away.

"He's overdramatic," Percy mumbled. "It's spacious enough."

No, his mum hadn't seen his room since the fateful night he'd managed to 'redecorate' it, mostly because she respected his privacy. Molly knew that when Percy locked his room with an onslaught of charms that one would normally use for their Gringott's safe, it usually meant that he did not want to be disturbed.

Unfortunately, the rest of the house did not get this message and Bill, that ruddy curse breaking twonk, could disable any variety of charms that Percy used for his room in less time that it took the Chudley Canons to lose a Quidditch match.

"Of course, you consider it _spacious_. Well, look at you," Molly said, eyes on his frame as he shifted to pick up a dream catcher. "I've made cakes that are heavier than you."

"Mum, you've made cakes that are heavier than _Charlie_ ," Percy reminded her.

Speaking of Charlie, he looked like he'd put on a stone of muscle since he'd been working in that blasted reserve. Unfortunately, this aesthetical value was counteracted by the fact that he was littered with more burns than freckles. Percy would never forget the day that Molly actually cried when she saw Charlie's entirely charred arm. Charlie had been thrown into the burn unit in St Mungo's a couple of times. They were able to salvage most of his skin on numerous occasions. Percy loathed that Charlie kept on working in that— _that unsanitary, hazardous environment_. It unsettled both Percy and Molly that Charlie took his burns as badges of honour and had taken to explaining to anyone he saw precisely where and how he got his burns.

Percy looked back at the dream catcher, running his finger across it. What an ugly contraception.

"Do you really have that many books?" Molly suddenly asked, surprise still evident in her voice.

Percy nodded his head calmly, as he placed down the dream catcher and picked up an old pocket watch that looked like it had seen better days... probably around the 17th century. It was broken, tarnished, non-functioning and retailed for so many Galleons that Percy would have to sell his body for a decade just to make his first deposit. He toyed with the silvery handles, musing to himself. Percy knew that if he broke it, Arthur would murder him—preferably with said pocket watch. "Yes."

Molly looked up at him, eyes warm and a shameless grin resting on her soft face. "I don't really buy you _that_ many books now, do I? I have spent a fair bit of my pocket money on books for you but not..."

"Mum, you spend _all_ of your pocket money on me," Percy cut her off.

"I do not," Molly huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"When's the last time you've bought yourself some new robes? Or some jewellery?" he said, as he picked up a pair of silver owl earrings. The owls flapped their miniature wings energetically.

Remorsefully, Percy did not really recall the last time his mum bought something for herself. Her favourite violet robes were coming apart at the seams and she refused to pop down to a shop to get a new one tailored for herself. His mum could be fairly stubborn about it. Percy wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow morning, all her robes would simply unravel into nothing more than tawdry cotton and tawny buttons.

"Come off it, Percival," Molly took the earrings from his hands and placed them back. "I don't _need_ gifts."

Percy opened his mouth to speak but not before he was bumped into the table. His stomach dug into the sharp wood, as he dropped the silvery earring. His knee had banged into the small stool that was underneath the table. His dodgy leg was now throbbing in the utmost agony and it took all of Percy's dignity not to swear out and threaten murder on the blasted arsehole that knocked him down. For the past few minutes, Percy had been dragging his dodgy leg, which was swollen with more fluid than the Great bloody Lake. Now, it was raging with a hot-white searing pain. He felt his eyes water.

 _"_ I didn't see you there, bruv!" a squeaky feminine voice called out. "You alright? You're looking to be in horrible pain."

 _I didn't see you vere, bruv_ , Percy reiterated in his head, emphasising on that dreadful accent. _You awright? You're looking to be in 'orrible pain_. His Ancient Runes textbook was more easily decipherable.

"Fine, thank you very much," Percy mumbled in irritation as he took in her features: hair so unkempt it looked like a black Kneazle went on and died on top of her head, lips so devoid of colour it looked like she was suffering from a case of rigor mortis and shoulders so broad that Percy immediately suspected troll blood. In fact, he did because not only because of that characteristic smell (which he would assume was a cross between an owl emporium and Fred and George's manky socks) and the broadness of her gaunt frame, but also for the fact that normally, his six-foot tall Devon arse didn't have to look _up_ to a women.

She laughed gaudily and then offered him a wet kiss on the cheek. "No harm done, is there, mate?"

"None at all," Percy said, and waited until she left before he'd rubbed the wet patch on his cheek. He, too, gave strangers kisses that were sloppier than a crup's when he bumped into them. He quickly dismissed this behaviour. He was aware that part trolls weren't the brightest bean in a box of Bertie's Every Flavour Beans. He noticed that his mum was trying not to laugh. "Mum, this is _not_ funny."

Molly only replied by leaning up and giving him a quick peck on his cheek.

THERE was a new little no-melt milkshake stand just a few blocks away from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Molly tended to have an overzealous attitude towards Percy trying new sweet shops. She'd always hoped that one of these little shops would win Percy over and see him put on a couple of stones.

As Percy was sat down on one of the benches and attempting to explain to a twenty-year-old why he did not wish to purchase five kilos of plums, Molly looked over at the selection. Although she thought the prices a bit too much and odd that it was all in Latin, she simply said butterscotch, hoping that Percy still preferred his ice-cream to be on the caramel, toffee or butterscotch spectrum. The man behind the counter looked at her in confusion but she only supposed that he didn't speak any English.

She didn't think much of it until about ten minutes later when Percy started to act a little oddly when he'd downed down half of his large milkshake.

Molly then stole away the milkshake to take a sip of it. A blast of creamy toffee-like caramel hit her tongue and she found herself confused. It didn't smell like much other than toffee either so she doubted potions were involved. She offered the milkshake back to Percy, who had scoffed the whole thing down in less than a minute (unusual for Percy, who normally took ages to finish anything) and threw it away in one of the bins.

After about ten minutes of walking, she was hit with a bitter taste in her mouth, a strong sensation of her throat burning as fuzzy warmth filled her body. _Firewhiskey_.

She turned to look at Percy, who was thin-lipped, hazy-eyed and swaying unevenly.

"You know what, mum," Percy began and the only thing that Molly hoped was that Percy was the kind of drunk that kept their clothes _on_. He coughed a few times, followed by a steely laugh. "I think _that_ was an appropriate birthday gift. I would not complain if you were to purchase it for me again."

Molly Weasley wouldn't purchase him another one of those if the Dark Lord himself suddenly rose up from the dead and demanded her to.

"Shops are closing," Percy suddenly noticed, suddenly slamming into her with how he was swaying. The impact was minimal and she barely felt it. "We best get home, as I'm sure Charlie's probably ran out of all the burns and scars he could talk about by now. And—and you know _what_ , mum?"

They passed by a few junk shops that they'd been to before.

"Ginny and Ron probably ate their weight in biscuits and..."

Molly glanced to and back to see if there was anyone that she recognised around here. She wouldn't know what to do with herself if anyone just magically popped up and asked her why Percy was so pissed that he couldn't tell his head from his arse at this point.

"And Bill probably found another animal he'd love to wear as a fashion statement and..."

Percy coughed, and glanced back at his hand.

"Seeing as it's about seven in the evening, I bet you that Fred and George just woke up from the dead," Percy mumbled. He was staring at his hand _as if_ he owned a watch. Molly recalled that the only watch he owned served the purpose of reminding him of his various Hogwarts assignments, almost as if Percy's neurotic persona would let him forget at this point.

He stayed silent for some time, and then asked, "Do you remember—when I was little, mum?"

"You _are_ little, Percy," Molly insisted, placing his hands on Percy's pointy arms to prevent himself from falling flat on his face with the way that he was walking. "You're only fifteen."

"It doesn't feel like it," Percy suddenly said, stopping in his tracks and slipping by a filthy-looking bench that rational, sober Percy would never allow himself to sit on. His dislike towards anything that harboured more than three particles of dust would never allow him to. "I've _never_ felt little."

Molly sat down beside him, trying to ignore the mass of spiders that just crawled away from the bench.

Percy simply picked one of the grubby things up, pulled his knees up on the bench and placed the massive spider on his lap. This image would be enough to give Ron nightmares for weeks.

"There's something wrong with me," Percy suddenly sounded out, allowing the spider to run up to his shoulder. Molly's stomach churned, but Percy seemed to be unaffected by those long mucky legs running up to his shoulder. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or if Percy secretly had a fondness for filthy little animals—though given his obsession with that rotten rat, she was inclined to say the latter was more likely.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Molly insisted, not wanting to hear anymore of this nonsense.

Percy laughed. He sounded like a cross between a dying Kneazle and a suffocating owl.

"I remember the first war," he suddenly said, before Molly could say anything else. "If memory serves me correctly, Uncle Fabian and Gideon had an open coffin funeral."

"They did," Molly said in a low voice.

Molly watched Percy let the spider crawl to his hand before he placed it back on his thigh.

Percy suddenly stated, making her heart stop in her chest as he glanced back at her with a coldness in his sharp blue eyes. "Our safe house had a library that spanned the whole of the Burrow. I spent my time reading books that smelled like what I'd imagined a dragon's arse to smell like. Every time I discovered something rudimentary about potions and spells, I believed that I was going to save the universe. I made a plan to slip You-Know-Who and the whole of his army a _very, very, very_ strong Sleeping Draught. At five, I thought this was a perfect, well thought-out plan. During the same time, I remember you telling me to strip down for bed every night. Three weeks you've pounded after me, wondering how I could read a book for a child thrice my age and carry round books twice my size yet still refuse to do something as minute as stripping down just before bed. I believe father once came to see me and in thirty seconds, he'd convinced me to strip down... and I've never put up a fuss after that."

Percy chuckled slightly, watching the spider trail up to his arm again.

"I remember reading books often. I naturally wanted to help, of course. I wanted to fight those terrible things that has kept us stowed away in the dark. I was in constant vigilance."

A few more chuckles escaped from Percy's mouth, almost as if he was trying to contain a funny memory.

"I remember being stood by Uncle Fabian and Gideon's coffins. Their eyes were open, dark and vacant. I remember the scent of death and decay, especially at two in the morning when I was supposed to be asleep."

"Percy..." she reached her hand out, and he immediately shifted away.

"When normalcy ensured after the war, nothing has ever been the same," and it wasn't trauma or horror or anything that Percy wished he could've attributed to. "I still had the same alert. I read more. I didn't want to help anymore. I wanted to _want to help_. I wanted to have a valid reason for being so subdued, so bloody _empty_ and livid and... I just...I've never admitted it to myself because I'm a hapless spineless twat and that's why I can't be in your house. I'm such a blind coward that I wouldn't even admit most things to myself in fear of what they might mean for what kind of individual I might be."

"Percy," Molly said more sternly this time. She had no idea what he was babbling on about.

"I loved it," Percy admitted weakly.

Molly stared over at her son in bewilderment. "Loved what?"

"I didn't want the war to end," Percy clarified in a stern voice. "I had an unfilled void in my body ever since the first war. I missed it. I... _I loved it_."

He turned to look away from her, and gently cupped the spider in his hands. Percy stood up from the bench and leaned down to the dirty ground and released the spider from his grasp, watching it disappear off.

"I'm revolting, mother," Percy said, laughing gaudily as if he'd said a brilliant joke.

He stepped forward slightly, placing his hands in his pockets. She'd not noticed how dusty his chocolate brown trousers were from being sat on that bench until then.

"Let's go home, Percival," she said, standing up. "It's late."

Percy kept his eyes on the ground, almost as if he was looking for more spiders. "Mum?"

She wondered what could make a five-year-old fall in love with ideologies of war. She wondered if things would be the same after this, and if they _should_ be the same.

"This changes nothing," she decided and meant it too. "I love you just the same."

Molly felt a heaviness in her heart, and wondered why so many things happened the way they did. She knew that she had to keep this between her and Percy. She didn't think anyone else could understand. He seemed ashamed of his pleasure... and he seemed more human than he ever had.

"Why did you run away, Percy?" she suddenly asked. It had been on her mind for years now, and she'd never quite built up the courage to ask.

Percy only laughed again and then said, "I need to take a piss."

MOLLY and Percy didn't turn in until eight in the evening. By then, twenty-one-year-old Bill was ready to murder a Hebridean Black and eat it (much to Charlie's chagrin). It didn't help that their mum had prepared dinner ages ago, and had put a charm to prevent the food from spoiling whilst she was out buying Percy a birthday present after she picked him up from his volunteering shifts. This meant that the house had smelt like warm bread and fish and chips for ages now, which Bill didn't appreciate when he was about three bloody seconds away from hunting for Percy's rat to give it a bit of a roast. Bill felt like he'd lost about half a stone in three hours from how cutting the hunger in his stomach was. It made him bloody wonder how Percy could be sat there, eat just a sliver of a sliver of something and then claim fullness.

"It's about time!" eleven-year-old Ron walked towards them, as Molly and Percy made their way inside.

"It _is_ a bit late, isn't it?" Arthur said. Bill bet that his father, too, was weak from hunger—but maybe, just maybe, Bill was a _little_ biased. "No matter. Did you two have a smashing time looking for that gift now?"

Molly looked like she was in a foul mood. "He sung all the verses of _La Marseillaise_... three times."

"Percy? _Singing?"_ Charlie reiterated with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not that shocking, _Charles_ ," Fred gave him an affronted look worthy of Percy himself. "I have you know that every morning at precisely 5:25, after I've somewhat shifted the broom in my arse, I start to blurt out all the six verses of _La Marseillaise_ but don't account for the fact that my dashing, charming brothers, Fred and George, are always up until six at the very least. Just this morning, they were sat in their room with soundproof wards on just so their laughter doesn't wake up the whole ruddy house."

Percy gave a shameless beam. Bill felt like if Medusa cracked a smile, it would look something like Percy's.

Before Bill said anything, all thirty-two balloons that the twins blew up in the morning (or late afternoon really) suddenly popped, releasing an extensive amount of candy-coloured confetti all over the place. Bill would've been amused—until he tried to shake off said confetti and it just wouldn't give.

 _"FRED! GEORGE!"_ Molly exclaimed when she discovered the same thing. "You two just couldn't resist, could you? Trying to ruin poor Percy's birthday! This isn't even remotely funny!"

 _Brilliant_. Bill, clad in a pair of dark denim ripped trousers, a thin white t-shirt, a dragonhide jacket and boots of the same material, was now coated in a river of colourful confetti that was as gaudy as the collection of diet sweeties that Molly usually got with her _Witch Weekly_ prescription.

" _See?"_ Molly spat out at them. Nobody but you two are laughing!"

As the twins laughed, Bill looked over at Percy and waited for him to explode in fury, going off about how childish and immature they were being but instead, Percy, too, started to _laugh with them_. The sound of Percy's laughter startled Bill so much that he actually believed that hearing someone being _Crucio_ -ed would be far less painful to the ear.

 _"Percy?"_ Bill slowly approached his brother, wondering if he was also going to explode and send colourful confetti flying all over the place. "Are you alright?"

Being close to Percy, Bill registered the smell of him. "Merlin, how pissed are you?"

"Not enough," Percy rubbed his eyes, and then laughed again. Bill felt his ears bleed.

Arthur glanced over at Molly, who was blushing deeply as she admitted, "I _accidentally_ got him sloshed, but it's not my fault. I've bought him a milkshake from the new stand and I had no idea that they'd spiked it with firewhiskey! I didn't know that was something they did now!"

"Mum, when it's our birthday, we want _you_ to take us to buy a gift," George grinned wildly.

AT three in the morning, Bill had someone knock onto his door. He supposed it was Percy since during the past hour; all he'd heard was the _pleasant_ sound of violent vomiting, typically followed by a nasally throaty sound. Bill could've charmed his walls so that he wouldn't be up hearing Percy's coughing and gagging, but knowing he wouldn't sleep until _much_ later that night, he thought the least he could do was make sure Percy wouldn't black out or have a seizure in the middle of him being sick.

When Bill opened the door, he expected misshapen curls, wrinkled pyjamas, red-rimmed eyes and the smell of vomit but instead, Percy was stood there with his hair perfectly flat, his lips pressed in a smooth line, and decked in a white button-down accompanied by a black pair of trousers. Tucked under his arm seemed to be some sort of clipboard and he was vigorously rubbing his blue eyes as if it would make him less sleepy. He looked so pale that Bill wouldn't have been surprised if Molly suddenly came up to him and told him that Percy had vampire blood running through his veins.

"Would you please side-apparate us to St Mungo's?" Percy suddenly asked, as he pulled out his volunteering badge and pinned it to his shirt almost as if Bill had already agreed.

 _"Us?"_ Bill reiterated, as a woman spontaneously appeared by his doorway, nearly giving Bill a coronary. She was tall, thin and extensively freckled with bright red ringlets. She was wearing a pair of standard black robes and had her hands in her pockets. A sickly sweet smile was formed on her thin lips that reminded Bill of how his mum looked like when she was fuming. Seeing as she was with Percy, Godric only knew what he must've done to piss her off. "Who's your little mate, Percy?"

"I am _not_ his mate," she huffed back, crossing her arms over his chest. "He's a friendless bastard."

Percy's face remained emotionless. "William, this is Georgia. Georgia, Bill."

Bill hadn't heard himself being addressed by his full name so long ago that he hadn't even registered that Percy was talking about him. He pulled his hands out to shake her hand. Bill wondered how in Merlin's name she'd gotten in here, and decidedly assumed that she'd used their Floo—and with the unimpressed expression littered across Percy's face, he looked like he'd wished that he'd had the fireplace lit.

"Nice to meet you," Bill said, still wondering why she was in his house at three in the blasted morning.

"Can you side-apparate us?" Percy asked again.

"Side apparate you?" Bill reiterated again. "Perce, you were just throwing up ten minutes ago because you were so sloshed. Do you _really_ want me to apparate you to St Mungo's? _And why in Merlin's name am I supposed to apparate you to St Mungo's on a Thursday evening?"_

"It would take too long to explain," Percy's face remained unchanged. "Apparate us near a bin."

Bill thought that Percy was off his rockers, but after a few seconds of deliberating it, took hold of their hands and apparated them into St Mungo's. As with Percy's request, Bill _did_ apparate them near a bin—which Percy immediately sunk down to, violently retching. His clipboard was tossed aside and his hand was pressed against his abdomen. Percy must've placed a very powerful glamour charm if his hair was still just as pressed down as the rest of him.

"I didn't think you were the kind to get sloshed when you had work tomorrow," Georgia mumbled.

Percy stood up, and picked up a cup of water from a water cooler before downing it down.

"Oh, don't give me that bollocks," the cup re-filled itself with water and Percy downed it down another time. " _I'm_ not the one under current investigation for illegal position of recreational potions."

"That's just a rumour," Georgia suddenly mentioned. "Besides, even if they did happen to find it on my persons, you are well aware that I've done a great deed of service this month and riddled the country of one more felon masquerading as a normal citizen of this society."

"Oh yes, helping send a diabetic to Azkaban," Percy bitterly said. "How could the Ministry _ever_ repay you?"

"You know what room you're supposed to report to," Georgia huffed before taking the clipboard and shoving it towards an unsuspecting Bill. She disappeared down the long corridor.

"Georgia Brown has a history in sending anyone with controversial illness to Azkaban, or shipping them out of the country for specialised wards pertaining to their illness," Percy explained to Bill and then downed down another cup of water. "She got a twelve-year-old diabetic sent to Azkaban for uncontrolled magic during her ketoacidotic condition. Brown tied in said magical fit to the death of a twenty-year-old woman that had a wound infected with _Clostridium tetani_. The reason it won the Wizengamot over is because the autopsy had her at sudden cardiac death."

"So, _if_ she knew about you..." Bill said in a whisper.

" _If_ she knew," Percy looked back at Bill with a serious expression. "I'd be given the Kiss."

"You're bloody insane," Bill decidedly said, trying not to have his voice high enough that others could hear the conversation, not that there were many people round here. In fact, the hospital seemed to be emptier than that packet of party rings that he'd accidentally kept in Charlie's room. "Why is it that everyone you know is a _psychopath_? I have half a mind to tell Mum and Dad about this, because this is not just about what _you_ want to do. We're risking our safety so that you don't have to get stuck in that ruddy ward and you're the bastard that's trying to throw that all away for a certificate to put on your stupid CV."

Percy looked surprised for a second and then enthralled. "Firstly, it's _my_ life that I'm compromising. Do you _really_ think that they'd be able to tell that the lot of you have known for much longer but kept it quiet? How will they confirm this even if they did have their suspicions? Secondly, even if I did leave my volunteer work now—which I am _not_ going to under any circumstances because I have three days left and I've been pulling my feet up on this sodding job all summer—it'll ring suspicion to anyone that has more than three brain cells. Thirdly, not only does she have no suspicions at all, you are going to have to sober up to the fact that she is going to be a part of my life regardless given the fact that I am seeing her sister."

"You're dating the sister of a loony?" Bill felt like his blood boiling. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt like all Percy ever did was put himself in situations that were bound to spiral out of his control. "Tell me, Percival, does her sister, too, share the same philosophies? Help me gauge out how screwed we are."

Percy's ears had gone red. "I'll end up convincing her otherwise!"

 _"Merlin!"_ Bill exclaimed stormily. "All the women here in England and you choose to shag the one that wishes your kind would snuff it overnight?"

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but he had no counter argument.

"Well?" Bill called out, realising that he'd won for the most bit. It didn't take Albus Dumbledore to figure out that Percy was being an absolute berk about this whole thing.

"Don't tell Mum and Dad," Percy immediately stated. "I've it under control... _please_."

Bill hated this sodding bastard, playing him up with those big blue eyes and that tortured look. It didn't help that Percy looked exhausted and Bill couldn't keep the fire stirring in his veins for now. "Fine."

Percy said nothing to this. Bill didn't question Percy's silence and simply followed Percy down a few corridors, up a flight of stairs before they entered straight to the psychiatric wards.

"Why are we in the psychiatric ward, Perce?" Bill didn't like where this was going.

"Um..." Percy bit down his lower lip. "I'm to report to Caius Flint's room. He asked for me personally."

"That bastard that used to sock his own son?" Bill said. At this point, he wasn't even sure to be surprised that Percy somehow made the situation worse. It seemed like he was throwing himself off a deep end and allowing people to watch him attempt _not_ to drown. "The one that once beat you up so bad that you were in a coma for a whole ruddy week? You told me to apparate you out of the house at three in the morning so you can wipe his old wrinkly half-troll arse?"

"I am not wiping anyone's arse," Percy said, rubbing his arm. "But yes. I had to finish this and knowing you, you would've let me take Charlie's old death contraception of a broom to get here. Still... not to worry! It'll only include minimal interaction. Stay outside and no matter what; don't attempt hexing him from a lengthy distance because I know you, William and I do not want to get anything else on my record. I've already had enough to fill three pages' worth of their health and safety violation record and somehow, all of them are tied back to the wonderful times that my family accompanies me to my workplace."

"I wasn't going to do it anyway," Bill gruffly stated as he sat down in an uncomfortable-looking chair in the waiting room. "I forgot my wand at home."

STEPPING inside the room, Percy caught sight of Caius Flint sitting in a creaky old bed at the corner of the room. The boils and abscesses that had littered his body years ago had dissolved, leaving nothing but scarred skin. The man had a few bottles of untouched pumpkin juice by his bedside and was coughing vigorously.

"Sit down," Caius ordered. He looked like a shadow of his former self.

Percy unquestioningly sat beside Caius' hospital cot. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be gestured to stay silent. Thus, for a good ten minutes, Percy sat in silence and wondered what they were waiting for—that was... _if_ they were waiting for something. After another five minutes, Percy opened his mouth to attempt to inquire why he was sat there _at three in the morning_ but then the door slid open and a figure stepped inside.

Percy watched Caius Flint's eyes lit up and a warm smile settling on his lips before he called out, "Marcus."


	29. Chapter 29

_the plot unravels **just** a bit more in this chapter. Caius and Marcus are proving to be slightly more than just an abuse plotline and a reason to torture Percy, and Percy/Audrey are discussed. **the Molly and Percy interaction was unplanned**. it just happened on its own and i let it take its course... i was going to save some of to much later on, but with the re-writing, it just found its way to here... i'd planned the age gap between Audrey and Percy for a very specific reason and with how this fanfic is taking into different directions all the tim, it would surprise me if i'd use it as i intended to use her in the first place... ah, but we'll see! _

_i wrote the next chapter, broke it down, rewrote half of it... it's nothing like it was before. all this re-writing makes my brain hurt._

 ** _as for any mistakes in this fanfiction, please excuse any mistakes in the writing. i don't read things as carefully as i'd like even when i'm trying to read slowly and i tend to skim over very obvious mistakes. nevertheless, enjoy the chapter!_** _also, thank you all for **43 favourites, 70 followers and 107 reviews!** i won't lie - i felt chuffed when i saw it surpass the 100 mark. in my head, i just about screeched "they like it! they really like it!" i do read each and every review, and they are very encouraging. _

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine

* * *

 _"Marcus,"_ Percy found himself calling out softly.

The first thing he'd noticed about fifteen-year-old Marcus Flint was that he was wearing a ripped Falmouth Falcons shirt, a pair of dirt-strewn plum purple trousers and muddy old plimsolls that Percy could smell a mile away. There were three twigs eloquently positioned in his hair. Yes, this was at three in the morning. Percy _supposed_ that this was part of Marcus' metamorphosis into a true forest troll. Otherwise, Marcus looked exactly as he did when he left Hogwarts at eleven—standing at an unnerving five-nine, excruciatingly thin, coarse black hair, thin-lipped with those stony dull eyes that often looked translucent.

Marcus gave a curt nod to Percy and then turned to look over at Caius Flint, "Father."

"Come closer," Caius commanded, patting a small spot on the hospital cot.

 _You are not allowed to make that order after what you've done to him_ was all that Percy could think about. His tongue was tied and his hands were in a similar predicament. Percy could _not_ let this situation get out of hand before he knew why they were both there, and he could _not_ make this meeting about him. Still, Percy's blood boiled just at seeing Marcus sit on the cot, just centimetres away from Caius Flint.

"Your sisters didn't want to come see me," Caius suddenly stated, as Marcus visibly stiffened.

Percy arched an eyebrow. He didn't even know that Marcus _had_ a sibling—much less more than one.

Imaging a mass of girls with Marcus' sharp and hard features was nearly impossible, and then he suddenly remembered the black-haired troll-blooded energetic lass that he'd bumped that evening; the one that pecked him and had that _intolerable_ accent. Wait... no, no, no, _that_ had to be sheer coincidence, wasn't it? He was sure that there were plenty of part trolls that _happened_ to have the same coarse black hair and Marcus' characteristic nearly-non-opaque-in-natural-light grey eyes—wait, did Marcus have _that_ accent?

"They think you're a sodding bastard that deserves to die," Marcus admitted.

Percy's ears reddened. He _did_ have that accent that Percy loathed with every molecule of his being. _Brilliant_. He'd somehow missed Marcus' accent when they were younger because he was busy trying to prevent Marcus from being pummelled to an early grave. _Alright. Back to reality, Percival. This is a very serious situation_.

"With all due respect, Mr Flint," Percy actually didn't care at all for respecting this man, but added it on as a nicety, "I agree with their assessment."

Caius kept his gaze on his son. "Does your mum know you're here?"

"She'll hang me if she knew about this," Marcus honestly answered, sounding bitter.

Percy knew that he was supposed to be serious about this, but suddenly, all his mind could do was repeat the statement with Marcus' drawl: _she'll 'ang me if she knew about vis_. This succeeded in making his ears redder. Marcus seemed to be insulted by the fact that Percy was starting to look like a strawberry.

"What's so bloody funny, Weasel?" he spat out in the same cutting coldness.

Percy could barely choke out any words, "Why..." his cheeks reddened even more. "Why are we here?"

 _It's only an accent_ , he told himself with a firm voice. _Sure it's a ruddy awful one, but this is a very serious situation. _

Marcus only looked back at his father with an arch to his eyebrow. "A premonition, Weasel."

 _"Premonition?"_ Percy reiterated, looking over at Caius Flint as if he'd suddenly grown three horns; had turned blue and was sat in a cauldron of fire instead of a hospital cot. "You're a _Seer?_ "

Percy wouldn't believe Caius Flint was a Seer if Trelawney herself confirmed it and he had a shop opened pertaining to his gift for years because this man was a manipulative bastard... _but_ he supposed that Caius already predicted Percy's disbelief now, didn't he? And thus, would react appropriately?

"I will not waste my time trying to get you to believe me. I could tell you all the things I did foretell and you'd accuse me of not being able to validate it with proof," Caius suddenly stated.

 _Because that is a justifiable argument,_ Percy thought. _I could claim that I foretold the outcome of the first wizarding war and hadn't consumed the last biscuit in the biscuit tin, but both those statements would be false, wouldn't they?_

"I foretold my own undoing. I knew that a dark presence would come to consume me when Marcus was at around three years old. It was he... _Ares_. He spoke to me. He told me that he had to undo me in his venture to undo you. That encounter with me, it was _his warning to you_. He will be coming for you and he'll make worse of you what he did of me. He's trying to..." Caius paused for a minute, as if trying to find the words to explain his statement, "... _sculpt_ you, and I foretell that you two will have an encounter soon. You best be prepared so that he doesn't best you as he did me."

Percy stared at the man as if he really was off his rockers. It was three in the ruddy morning—now approaching _four or five_ no doubt!—and a man in the psychiatric unit was trying to tell him that he was a Seer and that Percy's doom awaited him in the form of a Greek God! It was also his poor form of justification regarding to why attempted to suffocate his own son! Percy _did_ , in fact, find this extremely hard to believe, but then again, anyone with more than three brain cells would have a hard time believing this old coot!

"You are a manipulative, fumbling fool and only a twat would believe you," Percy hissed.

Marcus looked at Percy as if it was he who was socking him since he was a wee tot.

"Don't tell me you believe this _bollocks_!" Percy said to Marcus, who shot a glare before nodding his head.

Why was Percy so surprised? Every time Marcus spoke about his father, it was somehow to defend him or push them away from the fact that this man wasn't all that bad and he had plenty of redeeming qualities despite the fact that he'd probably have attempted to hang Marcus on the basis of a stamped grade on a piece of parchment paper! Despite the fact that Marcus couldn't help being thick at times, especially given the fact that he actually _had_ difficulty reading and relied on _pictures_ to get by the Potions class! He was the bloke that had to use Quick-Quotes quills to write essays and sit exams because he genuinely didn't know how words looked like when they were written down! The only reason he even got away with it was because Snape had him write down his own name without a Quick-Quotes quill and it came out as _Marquees_.

Percy shook his head in disbelief. "I am not being a part of this ploy! You can't convince me otherwise."

Marcus grabbed Percy's arm to stop him from leaving.

"He's telling you that he's been _Imperio_ -ed by a Greek God and you believe him straight off!" Percy huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. " _Never mind what he did to you._ No. _That's_ irrelevant... as long as he could convince us with ludicrous conspiracy theories and his audacious premonitions!"

"He said that you'd be like this," Marcus snarled, eyes cold.

And was _that_ was part of Caius' premonition? That Percy would be livid hearing this malarkey about Ares having have not only _Imperio_ -ed Caius Flint for whatever reason but also, that he was going to target Percy next? This was _not_ a premonition. This was an accurate prediction at best and was akin to someone telling Percy that he would feel like chasing Fred and George with a syringe full of concentrated Sleeping Draught if that confetti really hadn't fallen off from his skin after four to six hours had passed!

" _Wake up_ , Marcus," was Percy's last statement before he turned around and stormed out.

BILL was startled when Percy stormed out of Caius Flint's room, looking the way he did that time when the twins decided to make him drink something that turned his skin into a very vibrant sunny colour. Percy had received so many comparisons to an oversized custard-coloured Puffskein that he actually threatened the last person that made such a comment. Currently, Percy's glare so piercing that Bill thought that that alone could stun someone—no _Stupefy_ required. From behind Percy, a skeletal black-haired lad with his hands in his pockets walked out. His cheekbones, elbows and knees were so sharp that Bill wouldn't be surprised if they were considered dangerous weaponry. It was five am by then but Bill didn't feel the least bit tired.

"How was it?" Bill said, only for Percy to grumble, cursing under his breath. Well, _that_ actually gave Bill a good idea on how it did go. "Who do I need to do over?"

"If you touch my father..." the black-haired lad started to threaten. He sounded aggressive. Bill was surprised that the lad looked the way he did, considering the fact that from what he knew, this bloke supposedly had troll blood in him. He looked more like a temperamental half-elf that got his asphodels stolen.

Percy shook his head. "Bill, this is Marcus. Marcus, this is—"

"I don't care who he is. He's _not_ touching my father," Marcus suddenly cut Percy off, huffing to himself.

Bill rolled his eyes. It wasn't like Bill could actually knock down a man that made a mountain look like a hill with the force of his nine-and-a-half stone frame. Then again, they _did_ have wands for a reason and part trolls were known to be notoriously stupid.

"I won't," was all that Bill said, before he flashed a smile. "Do you need me to apparate your mate home?"

Marcus reluctantly gave a nod of his head, his arms crossed like a displeased ten-year-old Ginny.

"Yes, but I'm not coming. I have a full day's work ahead of me and no, you cannot convince me to take today off considering the lack of sleep," Percy said sternly, as he pushed his glasses up his face. "I'll probably come back home in time for the evening meal, but I can't make any promises about lunch."

Bill honestly thought that a piece of parchment paper had more life and character than Percy.

"Fine," Bill decided, and then looked back over at Marcus.

MOLLY could recall the week that nineteen-year-old Bill came back home on Percy's thirteenth birthday. He was bright-eyed, with a missing tooth regarding one of his recent endeavours, and suddenly came up with this inane idea to go vegan. Just before Molly could say that she'd _slaughter_ him if he'd even considered this as an option given how naturally willowy Bill was _without_ resorting to subside on nothing but bread and potato (the last time she'd shoved a vegetable down Bill's throat had to have been 1981), Percy suddenly mentioned that vegans cannot wear dragonhide—and certainly not so much dragonhide that the bloke that wrote _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ might have a connery just peering into Bill's closet. The idea disappeared from Bill's mind in seconds, and she remembered being sat there, wondering how Percy knew half the things that he did. Now, he spoke French, did volunteer work over at St Mungo's and all the mates that she thought he had turned out nothing to be an illusion he'd been keeping up for years...

Molly felt like she knew so little about Percy that at this point, two hours from now, someone could tell her that Percy would be playing as a Chaser for the Appleby Arrows and she would've believed them—regardless of the fact that she could remember Percy getting on a broom a year ago and ending up with three fractured bones and insisted on writing a letter to the Ministry about broom regulation standards.

In fact, she could remember twelve-year-old Percy shoving a well-written proposal regarding the same topic that used words like _asinine_ and _parlous_ , only to end the letter with the statement: _and brooms are evil_.

That early morning, Molly finally found it in her to step into Percy's room. It was cramped and small. His bed was constructed of only books as Percy and Bill have mentioned before but it was another thing all together to take it in with her big brown eyes. Percy's bright wall list counted thousands of novels and most of them were either incorporated into that bed, in the overflowing bookcase or stacked in neat piles.

Four years ago, this room _did not_ look like this. He'd been barricading himself in this room for years that even _it_ had changed right before her eyes— _justlikehimjustlikehimjustlikehim_.

Molly was ashamed to have allowed him so much time alone, but at the same time, no part of her could look straight into Percy's bright blue eyes and deny him something that he asked for. When he wanted privacy, she'd given him that _and_ more—especially knowing how the rest of her children kept on prodding at him until he snapped and kept on intruding against his wards. It didn't help that she still had nightmares of the day that she'd been into that hospital and saw those blood-soaked sheets and nothing but loose red curls sat on that filthy hospital bed. In the time that she'd been focused on protecting him, she'd seen him morph into a stranger with vacant eyes and empty smiles. She didn't know much about _this_ Percy, but she knew was that he didn't seem to be the anything near the average fifteen-year-old. He seemed more like a fifty-year-old man with the weight of the world on his back when he could just barely carry himself.

THAT evening, Percy came back home through the backdoor in the kitchen. Molly noticed his shoulders were slumped, his curls were attended to by a glamour charm but his hair was still askew and his eyes red-rimmed. He was carrying around a small black carrier bag, and looked to be in pain.

Percy also seemed to be in a foul mood, which wasn't an uncommon occurrence.

 _"PERCE!"_ George's voice called out as Percy stepped inside the kitchen and instantly started to make himself a cup of coffee, "You still didn't tell us what mum got you yesterday when you were in Diagon Alley! Come on. Show us. Is it anything—?"

"—interesting?" Fred finished off the sentence before the two broke into identical beaming grins. "Or is it just another load of boring books? Is it maybe a _new diary_? One that _isn't_ charmed with more security charms than the whole of Gringott's?"

"I did not buy anything," Percy said with a watery voice. "And for Godric's sake, _stay away from my diary_."

Ron stared at Percy as if he was from another planet when he said that he hadn't bought himself a birthday present, a look that he often got from his younger brother. Molly recalled on Ron's birthday, he and Arthur come back home with an extensive amount of Chudley Canon merchandise and had spent three hours trying to find out how to put even more posters on his wall—which was already absolutely covered with an excess of violet orange-coloured posters, most of them with holes and tears in them.

"Merlin, Perce, you're an even bigger bore than we thought! At least buy a present so we can poke fun!" the twins chimed just as Percy took a massive gulp from his coffee and hissed at how hot it was.

"That's it," Percy drained his coffee into the sink. "I'm going to bed."

"Percy," Molly reached over to grab his arm and stared at him with soft eyes. "Percy, love, what's wrong?"

"I'm not in the mood to discuss it," Percy mumbled, as he put the cup away. He turned to leave, but she gripped him back by the elbow, feeling his frustration. "Mother, please."

" _No_ ," Molly said for the first time in a long time. "Let's talk about this."

Her body was flooded by guilt the moment that she said it. She looked into those tired eyes and saw his weary bones flop with exhaustion—yet she denied him his rest. Molly felt less than a horklump.

"Out of the kitchen," she said to Fred, George and a silent Ron. They looked reluctant but finally disappeared down to the living room—no doubt to destroy more of her furniture.

She gestured for Percy to sit down and he did without any question, his lips tightly pressed and his arms placed on his thigh. Molly looked for leftovers in the fridge and performed a warming spell. Shoving a bowl of spaghetti bolognese in front of Percy, she watched his face contort with displeasure.

"Here," she charmed a handful of cutlery to levitate towards him and placed her wand back into her robes.

Percy picked up a fork and prodded at the spaghetti for a few seconds, almost as if it might come alive. He knew another question was coming because the precise moment that she chose to speak, he'd put a forkful of the spaghetti into his mouth and chewed. Every bite seemed meticulous and calculated. He chewed four times before he swallowed, and then put his fork down for at least another ten seconds. He'd prod a bit more at the spaghetti again and— _repeat_.

"What happened today, Percival?" Molly suddenly asked, sitting opposite to him and watching with an expression of deep concern.

Percy's cheeks coloured in deeply.

"Nothing," he insisted, and then put another forkful in his mouth. _Chew, chew, chew, chew_ , put down fork.

"It's _not_ nothing," Molly insisted, staring at him with a hard look on her face. "Did you have a...?"

Molly was aware that Percy still had seizures relatively frequently. They just didn't talk about it anymore—like the way that that she wouldn't talk about Percy mentioning the first wizarding war last night.

"A _fit_? A _convulsion_? A _seizure_?" Percy said. Molly felt herself flinch almost as if he said You-Know-Who's name. She could tell that he knew that she would react like this, and he wanted the reaction from her.

"Yes, I did," Percy hadn't picked up the fork yet— _a sign of distress_. "And I would prefer not to discuss it."

She wasn't going to. She didn't think she could bear to hear about it. Molly straightened herself up.

"Bill told me that you had a girlfriend," she suddenly decided to mention as he picked up the fork again, poking around the noodles. She saw his ears go red. _So it was true_. "Tell me about her."

"She is..." Percy seemed to be searching for words. "She works at the hospital."

He was hiding _something_. She could feel his hesitation. He was prodding at the spaghetti for too long. He was squishing the pasta down, pressing it with his knife. He didn't want to talk about it, so she _had_ to.

"What's her name?" Molly suddenly asked, her voice soft.

Blue rigid eyes suddenly softened. He looked almost human. "Audrey Brown."

The name suddenly flashed a memory of a mussy brown haired woman clad in ivory robes offering a phial to her. A nine-year-old Ron was sat beside her, ill of dragon pox. He complained that he didn't like the hospital, and Audrey didn't console him. Her face was rigid, her brown, honey-rimmed eyes— _like Molly's eyes were_ —distant. She was thinking of something else. She turned around to look through her collection of phials again. Molly remembered thinking what a nice, full figure she had. She also remembered staring down at her protruding stomach, obviously at least six months into her pregnancy and asking when the due date was. Audrey Brown was a nurse that had a two-year-old child... and her _fifteen-year-old_ son was dating her.

"How old is she, Percy?" Molly's feelings to protect him evapourated in seconds. He disappointed her. She had done so much for him, and _this was how he repaid her_.

Percy stared down at his lap, his lips pressed into a tight line.

 _"HOW OLD IS SHE, PERCY?"_ Molly exclaimed hotly.

"There _might_ be an eight year age gap between us," Percy answered in a whisper, rubbing his freckled arm.

Molly's heart ached. "Percival, I have held my tongue every time you mucked up. I know I've been treating you exceptionally well for years because I can't bear the thought of seeing you so dejected. I have _always_ stood by you, and yet, you continue to do dim-witted things like this, _but this is the last straw_ , Percival. I love you, but I can't have you jeopardising yourself _over a girl!_ Do you know how people will look at you once—?"

"I have it under control," Percy suddenly mentioned, not realising his slip until seconds later when his eyes widened as large as dinner plates and a flush crept to his cheeks.

"What _exactly_ do you have under control?" an infuriated Molly asked.

Percy bit down his lower lip. "Her sister may have just sent a diabetic to Azkaban over having an uncontrolled magical fit during a diabetic ketoacidosis. Georgia believes that anyone with peculiar illnesses should be sent to wards, or put into Azkaban. Audrey may share this opinion and if she knew about my—"

"This is _so_ self-destructive," Molly's face hardened whilst Percy stayed silent. "You _are_ , aren't you?"

Percy said nothing to this.

"Percival, listen to me," Molly pulled his chin up so that he was staring directly at her. "Any woman her age that isn't ashamed to go out with someone your age is _not_ someone you want to be with. You're not even of legal age, and even if you were, I would bloody murder you before you go on a date with—"

"She thinks I'm three years older than Bill," Percy said in a soft voice. "She doesn't know. I just...I really enjoyed her company and thought that perhaps, lying about my age might make her feel more compelled to spend more time with me. I-I surely didn't know that she'd be snogging my face off at any point!"

 _"Percy,"_ Molly could barely recognise him anymore. "We're going to have a chat about this tomorrow. You are going to stop seeing her in the time being and no more of this volunteering nonsense."

"No," Percy spat out. "I refuse to throw away three months of diligent work because you are displeased about this. I have four more hours left, and I'm going to finish them tomorrow regardless of what you think."

Molly's eyes hardened. "If you go tomorrow, I _will_ get your father involved in this."

Percy deflated. "You _are_ aware that he'd throw me out of the house for lesser things than this, aren't you?"

"Come off it!" Molly exclaimed, flabbergasted. "Your father _isn't_ like that!"

 _"THEN YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOU MARRIED!"_ Percy snapped back.

Molly felt her heart sink down to her stomach as she watched Percy stomp out of the room. As the hour passed, she sat on a creaky wooden chair, put her head into her hands and wept.


	30. Chapter 30

_aaaaand there's Audrey. speaking of unplanned things, **Tarvos' existence wasn't planned**. an OC was created on the spot, inserted himself, gave himself character and somehow a scene that i could appreciate was produced._

 _ **warnings: isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**... that 'God know what else i decide to put in last minute' includes **suicidal ideation (possibly an attempt may it be successful or not later on) and mentions/possible illustrations of self-harm.**_

 _to **Phoenixx Rising** : aye, it is a strange situation to be in! i just hope i have spun it on nicely enough. _

* * *

Chapter Thirty

* * *

It was noon and Percy was too broke for coffee. That statement alone could express how foul his mood was.

An hour ago, he had a long kip in the middle of his shift. He dreamed that Roger Davies had his cauldron explode during Potions. Even his dreams were as insipid and uninspired as he was.

By one, he wished he'd be kidnapped by a bicorn that had a voracious appetite for redheaded tossers.

His last shift was in the Paediatric section. Fortunately, the worst child he had to encounter was nothing more than Ron having a temper tantrum after Ginny stole his stash of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

However, within the time period between eight in the morning to two in the afternoon, a hundred and ten formal complaints were filed against him, stating that it was depressing for a cripple to attend to the children.

Thus, Percy was sent to his superior's office, whom threatened to discredit his work.

Percy stood his ground, only for Shoes to dismiss him.

Percy _needed_ that certificate because apparently, an application for any possible job he'd want after he'd finished his Hogwarts education would be a thousand times more guaranteed if his curriculum vitae was accompanied with a certificate from St Mungo's saying: _"Percival has changed three hundred nappies, took enough blood samples to make a vampire terribly jealous, had a mental breakdown at a hospital crisis where children's skin was desquamating and had an IV line explode on him! Please hire him!"_

Due to Fred and George's _help_ , Percy's resume for St Mungo's included qualifications such as 'lived with five brothers and one sister and thereby can efficiently change nappies and tell small children to suck it up', 'lost 500 Slytherin house points for being the world's most insufferable prat' and 'however, to make up for being an absolute berk, he can make an excellent cuppa'. Apparently, _that_ wasn't a problem with Shoes. The _real_ issue here was that Percy had to sit down whilst he withdrew blood because he was a _cripple_.

Percy was handling the situation relatively fine ( _read_ : he wanted to kill himself slowly and painfully).

That was when the disability unit heard about the complaints that were being filed against him and marched down to his superior's office, demanding Percy get his certification approved.

This, of course, resulted into an uproar that involved levitating wheelchairs and heated blood samples.

No, it did _not_ change Percy's predicament. He was still getting no certification.

Now, he was sat on a bench just a two-minute walk away from the hospital, staring at his knobby knees and skinny thighs, wondering if in seconds, he would at least have a semi-attractive body to walk around with to make him excited about _something_. Apparently, gawking at his body with intense self-loathing did nothing to make him look any more attractive than he was three seconds ago. Ever since he'd turned into his shift, all he'd done was cause ruckus and gotten himself banned from any work-related position in St Mungo's. On top of that, his father will kill him when he heard about Audrey. Percy was so frightened of disappointing his own father that it had been gnawing at the back of his head all day.

He'd defied his mum for nothing. He'd put everything on the table for _nothing_.

Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse (he should stop saying this to himself because he was ultimately tempting fate to make it even worse), he saw a figure stride towards him in the darkness of the cold summer evening... _Audrey_.

His heart started to pound when he saw her walk towards him, fuming. Percy's stomach clenched, because she _knew_. If she didn't know, she wouldn't be looking like she wanted to make sure he'd never walk again.

"Audrey, I—" Percy had immediately stood up, his voice squeakier than usual.

"Is there _something_ you'd forgotten to tell me, Percival?" Audrey asked coldly, pulling him down back at the bench. He felt cornered as he stared at her wide brown eyes, which were filled with contempt.

Percy found it in him to reply. "I'm not sure as to what you might—"

Audrey scoffed. Her brown hair seemed more chaotic than usual, and her eyes harder than his mum's Christmas pudding. "Something regarding the fact that _I have bloody oranges that are older than you?"_

"Yes, I-I just remembered... I—" Percy was so nervous that he started to babble. "I hope you're aware that using anti-decomposing charms on fruit is an imprudent move. I believe that there are studies linking the consumption of charmed fruits to increase the risk of viral infections due to the fact that they are—"

Audrey cut him off, which was probably a wise thing to do. "Percival, I'll think _very hard_ about what you're going to say next because if decaying vegetable matter or encephalitis is involved, then I'm going to break one of your bones... that is _without_ the having to resort to hexing you."

"I'm _so_ sorry," he could barely hear himself speak. "I'm so ashamed of myself, Audrey."

"Ashamed of yourself?" Audrey echoed mockingly with a raised eyebrow. " _Listen to me, Mr Decomposing-Charms-On-Fruit-Is-An-Imprudent-Move—"_

Percy was visibly sweating by then. "Well, _it is_."

"Do you realise that being with you is a _felony_ because you're not of age? I could lose my job, my house—"

Percy cut her off. "You're simply overreacting—"

 _"NO, I'M NOT! I COULD LOSE EVERY BLOODY THING I'VE EVER WORKED FOR JUST BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO SHAG AN OLDER WOMAN!_ " Audrey suddenly spat out icily. Her hands were clenched into fists. The street was absolutely empty, but he bet that the whole of Britain could hear her. Percy had never seen her like this before. She looked one step away from considering murder.

"That is simply a false allegation!" Percy attempted to defend himself.

"Did you ever think about what people will think of me if they know that I've been dating a _child_?" Audrey spat out. "Did you even stop to think about anyone other than your ruddy self? How long did you think that you were going to keep this from me before I found out?"

Percy attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. "Well, I—"

 _"OH WAIT!"_ She turned around, looking like she was on verge of setting him on fire. Percy felt a need to contact the psychiatric unit. _"I'D FORGOTTEN! OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO KEEP THIS FROM ME FOR A LIFETIME BECAUSE I'M RUDDY STUPID CONSIDERING I CHOOSE TO USE ANTI-DECOMPOSING CHARMS ON MY ORANGES! And if not, I'd probably die before I could figure it out because I've had a strawberry that would've gone bad in 1974 if not for the fact that I've applied an anti-decomposing charm on it! I've had it last week and I will be dying of a fatal viral infection because PERCY WEASLEY KNOWS EVERYTHING!"_

"I never said they were _fatal_ viral infections," Percy protested weakly in a low voice. By then, he could hear her violent weeping and his heart thudded harder in his chest. "Audrey?"

"1974," Audrey repeated, a sob escaped and tears ran down harder. "I was six years old then and you... you weren't even born! By the time I got my Beauxbatons letter, you was just a little nipper! Three years old!"

" _Audrey_..." his voice was watery.

" _What about what would happen to Lucy?"_ she asked. "What would people think of _her?_ If they thought that her mum was desperate enough to start shagging a bloke that hadn't even done his O.W.L's yet?"

Percy said nothing, and only stared back at her.

"Well?" she inched closer to him. "Don't you have _anything_ to say for yourself, you sodding git?"

Percy felt a solid feeling in his stomach, the nausea was empowering.

 _"ANSWER ME!"_ Audrey exclaimed. There was a distant sound of something breaking.

Percy flinched. "I'm sorry," he managed to reiterate through the queasiness. "Audrey, I am so—"

"That means nothing to me," she thrust a cream-coloured envelope towards him. "By the way, I found _that little titbit of information_ when I managed to convince Caiden to cough up your certification... which I hope you'll do the right thing with by shoving it up your pubescent arse."

She stormed off, and Percy followed her. The certification suddenly didn't mean much to him at all, which in itself was shocking for him. He felt his feelings for her amplify. He could barely breathe.

"Hurt?" Tarvos asked Audrey as she passed him. He'd probably been stood there, waiting for someone to apparate him home. From what Percy heard, it was a lavish cabin just outside of Hull. His existence was only there for St Mungo's campaign to show altruism and consideration to the general public, especially to _special_ creatures—this was amplified by the fact that they'd obviously taken Percy's disability as a _very_ serious thing by insisting on offering certain pain medications a knut less than they were originally sold for!

Percy had seen Tarvos round the hospital a few times. He didn't know if he was just a very stupid brute with troll or giant blood in him. A few times a week, Percy would offer him a very large pumpkin pasty (which looked like a miniature one in Tarvos' hand) and Tarvos's face would light up like it was the first time ever he'd ever been given one. Slobbery kisses were usually followed with Percy trying to rub it off his cheek in disgust. It wasn't that Percy had anything against half-breeds—he would do the same if energetic crups ran up to him, attacked him and started to cover his face with their unhygienic, disease-ridden saliva. Other than Tarvos' questionable intelligence, Percy did note that he was muscled, insanely attractive and obviously overprotective against females—which did not bode well for Percy. " _Audi?"_

"Audrey," Percy could barely choke out her name as he ran after her. "Please. I—"

"Don't talk to me _ever_ again!" Audrey exclaimed, only inches ahead. _"SELF-RIGHTEOUS BASTARD!"_

Percy didn't know if it was a courageous move or a stupid one but he grabbed Audrey by the elbow.

Apparently, he'd realise very soon that it was a _very_ stupid one because immediately, he was lifted from his feet by the collar of his button-down like he weighed no more than a Flitterby, twirled around on his toes before a fist came crashing down onto his face. He momentarily saw Dumbledore's stars and moons robes swirl in front of his eyes and felt his face become numb before his head started to pound—not unlike how it would usually pound when he caught sight of Fred and George with that pitiful ancient-looking map of theirs, planning on releasing dungbombs on an unsuspecting Snape when he'd least predict it. Percy essentially felt like he'd just been thrashed by ten Mjölnirs.

As he fell on to the ground, he turned to realise that Audrey was gone by then. He mucked up... _severely_.

Just before he could consider doing something stupid and self-destructive, Tarvos grabbed Percy by his long arm again and pulled him to his feet like he was nothing more than Ginny's ratty old Gwenog doll. Percy swayed unsteadily. He was in such pain that he wished to _Diffindo_ his dodgy leg before his knee got even more deformed than usual. The pain was so bad he _almost_ felt like he didn't deserve it...

"Tarvos, stop!" Percy exclaimed, hearing an audible crack. _"AUDREY, TELL HIM TO STOP!"_

Within the next succession of punches, jabs and kicks, Percy learned two very important things. Firstly, he didn't know he could dislocate his jaw in about three seconds. Secondly, he didn't know that his brain matter could be completely abolished in the same amount of time. At this point, he'd be surprised if he could adjoin three words together and put them into a sentence.

 _"Tarvos!"_ Penelope called out with sharpness to her tone. "Leave him alone!"

If Percy could feel his—well, _face_ , he'd make a comment about how Penelope was stalking him and somehow find a way to throw Roger Davies in it as well. She lived in this bloody hospital no doubt!

"He hurt Audi," Tarvos replied, his voice full of emotion. He crashed Percy down onto the ground again. The impact of the collision of his body to the ground made Percy wonder if there was a bone in his body that wasn't completely shattered or grinded into a fine powder. "Penny, _he hurt_ _Audi_."

"I know, I know," Penelope said smoothly as she walked towards him, rubbing his shoulder. She was trying to calm a distraught Tarvos down as well as she could. "Let Percy go. You know, he can't hurt Audrey anymore. It's going to be _fine_. Okay? Okay?"

Percy attempted to stand up. His bones were liquid and he lost all possible thought processing. His dodgy leg was in crippling pain and the minute he put pressure on it, he collapsed onto the ground with a thud.

"What did you do to upset Tarvos so much?" Penelope acerbically challenged. "I'm not sure what's taking my group so long to send that ruddy owl, but along with your instructions on what not to say to a socially impaired individual, I'll have you get a little nice brochure on how to treat half-breeds too!"

Percy raised an eyebrow at her. "But _he_ attacked _me!_ "

 _"You scared him!"_ Penelope exclaimed. Tarvos looked to be afraid of how animalistic Penelope looked like right then and looked to be trying to figure out what the situation was. "What did you do to Audrey Brown that was so bad that you've upset Tarvos for? I bet that he was only trying to help her! You know what a soft spot he has for women, something that you should learn from!"

"Yes, help her by making sure _I_ never walk again!" Percy challenged.

"Tarvos is not dangerous! He has his limits!" Penelope looked annoyed at his accusation. "Oh, Merlin, would you stop feeling sorry for yourself for _just one second_..."

" _I'm_ feeling sorry for myself?" Percy echoed incredulously. "I bet you he broke at least six of my ribs! If he does have limits to how hard he'd pound me in, I'd suggest that he rethink them. I'd recommend that he stops at the point where one typically vomits blood!"

"You're _over exaggerating_! Save for that awful-looking shiner, you look just fine to me!" Penelope exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest and giving out a deep sigh. "Now, I'd like to let you know that—"

"Oh, shut up, Penelope," Percy snarled. He was about a second away from lunging at her, but he felt like her hair might come to life again. "Can we do this another time? I'm _not_ in the mood."

"Fine," Penelope said, "Let's go, Tarvos!"

With that, she walked down the street with an air of arrogance that rivalled his own. A confused Tarvos followed her, with a glance back at Percy.

 _"Tarvos hurt Piercey?"_ he called out to Penelope, who just shook her head and insisted otherwise.

Tarvos turned around and grabbed Percy by his waist and scooped him up into his arms.

"Tarvos take Piercey home," said the half-breed, to which Percy wished at this point, he could've told him that he was not a stranded Kneazle—then again, he was not sure if Percy himself would viciously beat up a cat and _then_ take it home.

 _"My broom!"_ Percy remembered. The broom he'd left at the bench! Charlie's old broom! Charlie would kill him long before Arthur would for dating a twenty-three-year-old!

"Tarvos thinks brooms are evil," Tarvos insisted, only for Penelope to guffaw.

"It's nice to find someone that shares your opinion, isn't it, _Piercey_?" Penelope called out, obviously in a jovial mood. Percy hoped that the next time she'd have a cuppa; she'd burn her bloody tongue on it.

AN hour passed and Percy came to the riveting conclusion that he might just save both his father and Charlie the trouble and snuff it in himself.

Percy was sitting on Tarvos' bed in the cabin and had been attempting to communicate with a family of half-breeds about how he needed an owl—a very, _very_ fast owl. That could deliver letters in less than a minute, least his mum think that he'd ran away from his responsibilities... _again_.

At this point, he was more likely to run away from Charlie, as Charlie's broom suffered an unfortunate accident when a frightened Tarvos grabbed it from Percy and threw it across the street.

Percy had never seen something break _mid-air_ before.

Within the hour, Percy found himself reading—and rereading—his certification. He let his fingers run across the fine print. He inhaled the scent of parchment paper in the air. He'd reread it so many times that the words had burned themselves permanently into his pounding head. The words consoled him deeply and he found himself feeling slightly more than a flobberworm someone stepped on when he read them. He could see a future spanned for him, just like he did when he'd first gotten a letter to accept his resume. He felt like he was worth _something_... and between Tarvos' crushing hugs and slaps on the back (that were hard enough to seriously herniate Percy's discs), he believed that Tarvos agreed with this sentiment.

"Tarvos bought owl for Piercey!"

Percy jumped up from where he was sitting down. His leg was still in extreme pain, so he'd immediately collapsed upon doing so. Still, shock seemed to be a fairly sane reaction for when an oaf dumped a _large dead owl_ in front of Percy—that was with a thick wooden stick through it.

Tarvos sat down beside him and grabbed the end of the stick, shoving it to Percy.

"Piercey eat!" Tarvos exclaimed gaily.

" _Um_... no thank you, Tarvos." Percy saw said owl twitch; his stomach churned. "I'm allergic to feathers."

Tarvos grabbed the bird, and started to inhumanly pluck off feathers. In less than ten minutes, the floor was covered in feathers and Percy was handed back a featherless tortured owl.

"I, um..." Percy's head hurt. The smell of blood was doing his head in. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Tarvos frowned, and grabbed the owl. He started to tear off body parts and eat it himself. Of course, Percy felt relieved that he wouldn't have to eat said owl, but having Tarvos chew meat and bone certainly didn't do anything to settle down his stomach. Percy was the bloke that subsisted on potatoes, pasties and sweeties for a reason—and tonight's display surely didn't see him running back home to shove down a dozen sausages at any point in time! Also, Percy would just about kill for a cuppa (not kill _owls_ ), but he wasn't sure if he should ask Tarvos for one in fear that he'd be handed a cup of Flitterby blood masquerading as a soothing hot drink!

Tarvos placed a hand on Percy's thigh. "Grandmother made something for Piercey's pain."

Percy only offered a watery smile as he watched Tarvos disappear for a few minutes before he returned with a see-through cup with a red substance and a phial with the same colour substance.

So, the Flitterby blood was still on. He would just have to grin and bear it.

"Grandmother said that she can't make more for Piercey and she's sorry," Tarvos offered the cup to Percy before pointing towards the phial, "She say that this is as much as she has for you."

Percy looked down at the cup and offered a weak smile towards Tarvos.

"Thank you," he said, as he took the phial when he was offered. He stared down at the unidentifiable scarlet liquid. Every part of his body was telling him not to dawn it down.

Percy finally sighed and drained down the petite cup. It didn't take more than a gulp to finish it off.

About instantly after the drink, the pain in his body disappeared. He glanced over at the mirror and saw that the huge shiner that was on his face was now gone, and his limbs felt like they were—well, they were back in their place as far as he could feel. The warmth radiated throughout this body, and after five minutes, something miraculous happened. The crippling pain in his leg was suddenly _gone_. He could walk—Godric, he'd be able to _run_ without excruciating agony. When he looked up from his leg, the world seemed sharper, more colourful and beautiful. Tarvos' laugh somehow went from intolerable to sending fuzzy feelings in Percy's stomach. Images went through his mind faster than he could fathom: one-year-old Percy tasting the first chocolate frog he'd ever had. Three-year-old Percy hearing his mum gently cooing him to sleep. Four-year-old Percy being allowed to carry one-month-old Ron and feel the happiness in his heart as he was giggling " _squishy baby!"_ Charlie's mates thinking that six-year-old Percy was _the best_. Eight-year-old Percy's first big, _BIG_ book. Ten-year-old Percy _still_ being carried round Charlie's back, even though he was less than an inch shorter than Charlie. Twelve-year-old feeling Arthur clasp tightly on his shoulder as they paraded around Arthur's workplace, with the simple proclamation of, _"this is my smartest child."_

"Brooms are evil," Tarvos' voice pulled him out of his recollection of a thousand memories he didn't even know he had in his head as he was shoved a broom to Percy. "Tarvos give Piercey broom to take away."

Percy loathed brooms but even then, the look of the Firebolt had him swooning.

"Why Piercey crying? Piercey not happy?"

Percy placed a hand on his cheek, noticing how wet it was. Percy only laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that made his spine tingle. "Piercey is _very_ happy."

People at home were probably worried since it was half-nine and he wasn't at home yet. He was going to arrive him no earlier than eleven... with a brand new Firebolt. They might think he went mad and stole brooms _and_ his father was probably going to kill him for dating a twenty-three year old... _but he was happy_.


	31. Chapter 31

_i'm not sure why i mention all the unplanned things, but the **Marcus and Oliver** interaction at the end happened spontaneously. the conversation with them was one of the **easiest** things i've had to write in a long time. i have no idea how that even happened. poor Ol though. it doesn't take much to win him over, it seems. _

_to **Ceti H. Black:** honestly,  that was my plan from the beginning, but it's so difficult to write an extremely happy Percy. i tried to extend it as much as possible, but i had to put in a lot of my older drafts back into play and it was so difficult to mesh them together they way i wanted them to! _

* * *

Chapter Thirty-One

* * *

It was three in the morning and Percy was _buzzing_.

He'd flown from Hull to Cardiff on that beautiful, _beautiful_ Firebolt (he might re-consider his stance on brooms. Not _all_ of them needed to die a fiery death, just ones that didn't cost a troll's arm and a leg) and found himself walking up to a mucky flat that looked like it was about to disintegrate. However, on the inside, it looked how Percy would imagine the Malfoy's lounge to look like. In fact, Percy feared of breathing on the biscuit bowl just because one of those carefully iced buggers looked like they cost more than Percy's robes, his dragonhide loafers, Firebolt and the few sickles he had stowed away in his trouser pockets...

This morning, he nearly got mugged by a young bloke but the bloke laughed uncontrollably when Percy pulled out the few sickles he did have. Apparently, he was fortunate enough to be too poor to be mugged.

As he walked up the stairs, Percy may have knocked on every door from the first floor to the eleventh floor.

Thus far, he had a cat attack him (that was apparently _not_ supposed to be in the building), got hit by a rather large purse that must've contained a dozen or so of Hagrid's rock cakes, been hit on by a Russian male that found Percy's hips to be tantalising, been offered a change of clothes and a nice warm shower because he was thought to be a homeless beggar and had a six-year-old blond insist that Percy join him inside the room and play dollies with him until she had to be tucked into bed. This would've been adorable if not for the fact that Percy caught sight of the said dollies—unfortunately, they were _Daddy's_ dollies than they were hers.

He knocked on the fifth door of the twelfth floor and was met with Audrey—in all her five-foot-eight, full-hipped, rosy-skinned, brown-eyed glory.

Audrey still looked to be completely and utterly pissed off, which Percy expected.

If she wasn't still enthralled about their conversation a few hours ago, she would've surely been enthralled over the fact about the fact that it was four in the morning.

"Many pureblood families marry fifteen-year-olds to much older women than you—and vice versa," Percy finally said, trying to catch his breath after all the stairs he'd climbed. It had been eight hours after the argument they had, and this was the most lucid response that he could give her, a response he'd happen to deliver at around four in the morning. "It is _not_ considered a felony. At least people do not get charged with it as a felony unless there is serious abuse or offence being propagated in either parties."

"Is that all you have to say for yourself _?_ " Audrey mumbled in annoyance, crossing her arms over her silken baby blue pyjamas. Some of the buttons were undone, showing off her soft, squishy stomach and Puffskein belly button ring. Yes, _Puffskeins_ of all ruddy things.

Percy nodded his head, but then paused as he recalled, "Anti-decomposing charms apparently _don't_ give you viral infections. They give you sinopulmonary infections."

Audrey rolled her eyes. "Percival, I have actual _adult_ things to do tomorrow morning if—"

"I have epilepsy," Percy suddenly cut her off. He had never actually _told_ anyone. They usually deduced it from recurring seizures and the fact that he could fall into a coma from how exhausted he was after a fit.

Audrey grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him inside of her flat.

"You are so, _SO_ lucky Georgie isn't visiting. Else this time tomorrow, you'll be telling specialised nurses all about anti-decomposing charms," she didn't sound like she hated him. Percy fortunately didn't give a rat's arse about _Georgie_. Her hands felt warm and she smelled like bacon (how _was_ that diet coming along, Audrey?). She pulled him onto her couch and had him sit there. " _Bastard_. I was just fine, being pissed at you three ruddy seconds ago, and then you start telling me your deep, dark secrets."

She shifted to get the fellytone contraption on the table, and offered it to him before pulling it back to herself, as if she'd just realised something important. "I _was_ going to tell you to call your parents, but I'm the one that's going to call them. Godric knows what you'd say to them. You're so bloody wasted I'm surprised you can carry out intelligent conversation."

"I am _not_ wasted," Percy hadn't had a sip of alcohol since his mum had given him that spiked milkshake. Though alcohol suddenly seemed to be an attractive idea at the moment...

Audrey sat down on opposite end of the couch, picked up a piece of parchment paper and then started to fiddle with the numbers on the fellytone.

"How do you know my father's fellytone number?" Percy was surprised, peering over at her shoulder to take in the numbers scribbled on the side of the paper along with _Arthur Weasley_ scrawled on the top with an alluring handwriting. This was _not_ Audrey's large and curly handwriting, not to mention that Audrey _always_ swirled her _h_ 's and _w_ 's, and connected her _t_ 's together.

"I had a long chat with Perkins regarding work when I was treating his nieces. As the conversation drifted to goats with wires, electrical kettles and mucky old pick-up trucks, Perkins just happened to casually mention that your mum is exceedingly annoyed at your father for bringing the _fellytone_ into the bed, and for allowing Perkins to ring late at night to talk about how muggles put the caramel in their caramel chocolates," Audrey mumbled, as she continued to fiddle round the fellytone. Percy could hear ringing. "I told Perkins that I'd like to educate your father in the art of prank calling. I _was_ going to call and pretend to be an ex-girlfriend, but I thought that the consequences would be outrageous considering that your family manages to take a small harmless situation and turn it into a shitstorm where to make any sense of it, you have to talk to all offended parties."

A blush crept to Percy's cheeks at Audrey's vibrant descriptions. His family had quite a reputation.

Percy thought that they might have added some class to their name over the past few years, but that was all abolished last summer when Percy's Uncle Nicholas insisted that he wanted to use Azkaban as a _wedding venue_ and was involved in deporting British prisoners to American prison institutions whilst they had a week to turn the most soul-sucking, dismal place in existence into a ballroom! Molly had shown vehement discomfort with this, and insisted that they all stay at home. Unfortunately, Nicholas was the only relative that seemed to like Percy much more than the others and thought Percy was _"cute",_ especially in _"those big ugly glasses."_ Nicholas was able to bargain with his mum and insisted that Percy just _had_ to be there!

At least if he ever ended up in Azkaban, he'd remembered the cell where he had a bottle of firewhiskey to himself and told the bride she had a spanking bottom (said bride pinched Percy's cheek) before he found the Dementors' cloaks and robes and decided wearing something that had been on a soul-sucking beast was a fine idea. He was sure he'd actually pissed himself in one of the cells at some point during the night. Percy had concluded that apparently, to Nicholas and Margery, he must look like a three-year-old in formal dress. He told his mum this and she disagreed, only for Percy to happily remind her that he was the _ring bearer._

Percy was brought back to reality once the fellytone ringing stopped.

"Hello," Audrey's voice was clear and concise. "Can I speak to Molly Weasley?"

Percy buried his head onto her warm shoulder to listen in on the conversation and heard Arthur say _"Molly, there's someone that wants you to use the fellytone!"_ in the most excited voice Percy had ever heard in his life.

At this point normally, a wave of contempt would hit Percy's chest, wondering why these stupid muggle things interested his father more than his sons but nothing. Percy felt nothing but _that_ fuzziness in his stomach, _that_ tingle in his spine and drowned his senses in the smell of Audrey's perfume.

He could barely make out his mum's muffled voice through the phone.

"Hello, this is Audrey Brown. I'm not sure if you know about the predicament that Percy has put me in, but I'm sure that if you didn't, I could explain the situation and..." Percy felt a small condensation of fear pool itself into his stomach. "Percy's in my muggle flat in Cardiff. I'm not sure how much he drank, or what combination of potions that he'd had or _what_ he might've smoked, but he's still lucid enough to remind me about the latest literature he's read so he's not that far gone. If anything happens to him, then at least I could convince you'd he's around medical assistance."

At this point, Percy was only beaming coyly to himself and pressing his head against her arm.

He was offered the fellytone and Percy stood up, noticing the wobbling of his leg and the way that his deformed knee bowed out. Just the act of standing up used to make the bones in his knee felt like they were being lit with dragon fire... and this was usually accompanied with a sharp, shooting pain running from his ankle to his gastrocnemius. The never-ending pain was absent but despite that, his knee was still bulged out at an uncharacteristic, position and—oh, how his thighs _trembled_ as he tried to steady himself. He didn't notice how was holding onto the coffee table for support until he gave a glance down to his freckled hand. It made Percy wonder how people dare treat him unjustly and that feeling of _being cheated_ twisted like a ribbon in his stomach _("you need to walk a bit more," he recalled Arthur telling him as Percy stared down at his numb limbs and blue-tinged feet)_ until he pressed the fellytone to his ear and heard his mum's docile voice.

 _"Percy?"_ he heard Molly's loving voice. _"Percy, I've talked to Bill about Audrey."_

"What did he say?" Percy's heart skipped a beat.

 _"Well, he didn't find it strange at all and then five seconds later, asked me about how attractive she was and asked me to rate her from about 1 to 10 with 10 being a veela and 1 being a Puffapod,"_ Molly expressed with a sigh.

Percy cocked his head to the side and looked over at the small kitchen where Audrey was pouring herself a bowl of prawn cocktail crisps, and in the process of pouring it into the bowl, had consumed about five of them. She crunched loudly, and then ran her greasy fingers through her unkempt auburn hair.

"What did you say?" Percy watched her eat a bowl of crisps in less than three minutes, and then pour herself some more from the share bag that she had lying around.

Molly chuckled, _"I told him that she was attractive."_

"That is not a number," Percy echoed, as he watched her lick the flavouring from her fingers and stare back at him with those hard brown eyes. "Eight and three-quarters."

 _"Percival,"_ Molly sighed deeply. " _What I meant to say is that I'm sorry about the way that I spoke with you yesterday. It was—it was uncalled for, love! I know the age gap between you and Audrey is a bit concerning. I mean it's the same age gap between Charlie and Ron—"_

"Mum," Percy cut her off with a soft tone. "Listen to me. I want to say that—"

 _"But after Arthur's grandfather passed away, his grandmother got married to six other blokes, had three more children and lived a very happy life until she died at the age of a hundred and twenty-eight! This surely isn't the last time that anyone from this family does something stupid in regards of romantic relationships! And who knows? Maybe it'll turn out fine. Maybe Audrey won't get sent to Azkaban. Maybe—"_

Molly was cut off by Percy, because he had a feeling that if he didn't, she'd go on talking about how they had to live in her airing cupboard because they were all felons for agreeing to this criminal relationship.

"Mum, she was taking me to the muggle pictures! There was no discussion of wedding bells at any point in time and if it would help you help you sleep at night, mum, Audrey and I have never _participated_ in bedroom activities of any sort," Percy mumbled in great irritation. Their relationship was so pure that eschewing the three innocuous kisses that they've had, they looked like just any old mates going out with the goal of having a good time—well, _very close_ mates that allowed you to sleep on them when they thought you were either wasted, exhausted or playful, _but mates nonetheless_. "I have to go now, mum. I'll see you tomorrow."

Percy heard Audrey choke on a crisp, and he felt his cheeks fluster as he slammed the phone down.

"Eight and three-quarters?" Audrey echoed, shaking her head. "The length of my wand?"

Percy only smiled in response. "Well, that was a strange coincidence."

 _"Coincidence,"_ Audrey reiterated in disbelief, and continued to reiterate in an annoyed voice, "My name is Percival Ignatius Weasley. I say big arse words, dress like someone's dead grandfather and convince other people that I am ten years older than I actually am... Audrey and I have _never_ participated in bedroom activities of any sort! And then they forgive me even though I'm a sodding bastard, and I wake them up at four in the morning—"

"I didn't wake you," Percy cut her off, the smile still tugging at his lips. "I _know_ when I've woken you up, Miss-Had-Bacon-At-Four-In-The-Morning."

"I was hungry," Audrey mumbled in annoyance, running her hand through her hair. "All I've had today was a banana, a salad and a low-fat yoghurt. With the bollocks they serve in the canteen, I decided to stick it out, come home and have something healthy to eat. Instead, when I was getting ready to go home after my shift was done, I rationalised a curry, and late at night, I decided that tomorrow I will stick to this new diet 100%, so I gave myself leeway to make myself a few strips of bacon, had a few crisps, and if you weren't here, I'd have attacked the biscuit tin."

Percy chuckled softly. "Well, I wouldn't mind if you attack the biscuit tin."

"Percy, I have to get one thing very clear," Audrey grabbed the biscuit tin from the cabinet and walked towards him with a determined look on her face. "This will _not_ be more than an oddly close friendship. I am still _not_ impressed with the turn-out. It has questioned my trust in you entirely, vanquished any form of respect I had for you and made me wonder about our ability to have a stable friendship, much less anything else even in the future. I also suggest that you start to look for girls your own bloody age to shag."

Percy slowly nodded his head, but then he joked, "You mean look for girls that would help tempt you back into my arms?" he was amused to see her look of surprise.

"You're a cocky bastard," Audrey mumbled, and leaned back down. "And I want whatever you're on."

PERCY had fallen flat on his arse three times in the past hour when he was trying to stand up. He felt like a toddler that just learned how to walk—well, he was indeed re-learning how to walk _without_ cursing out and threatening to chop off any poorly supplied limbs. The pain had been guiding him in a way, telling him not to do foolish things _like_ attempt to invert his arthritic knee into his thigh (Percy heard a unpleasant _crack_ in his joint that couldn't be natural to say the least—it sounded like the crack of his teeth after he'd had one of Aunt Muriel's homemade salted caramel fudge), or sit in a position that engorged his leg with so much water that he wouldn't be surprised if at the autopsy, they found grindylows swimming about his knee.

The warmth that soaked his bones when he'd had the first sip of that tea was still saturating his body. It was as if sunlight was running through his veins and as if the stars had found refuge in his bright blue eyes.

Audrey fell asleep when she'd finished half the biscuit tin at five. He wiped her mouth away and covered her body with a warm blanket. He vowed to himself to bother her as least as he could and then cursed himself momentarily for letting this ruse go on for so long.

The Firebolt still rode like a dream—all the way from Cardiff to Devon.

Percy was over the moon, he was! The only thing that could make this any better was that somehow, he'd end up with a _Prefect_ badge in the post. However, this was unlikely given the fact that they mailed the badges early onto the summer holidays. Penelope would thrust hers everywhere she could to show off her success at getting one. Percy tried not to tell it to shove it up...um, a _particular_ orifice.

When he'd gotten home around eight in the morning, he saw Errol smash into the window. Percy went over to take him into his hands and noticed that Errol also came with a belated Hogwarts letter for Ron (whom fortunately would no longer have to endure the twins' taunts of him being a squib and could stick it into the twins' faces) and a shining green _Prefect_ badge. Percy thereby decided that the twenty-seventh of August was his favourite day of the whole ruddy summer, though he supposed it was poor Errol's least favourite day... Percy couldn't wait to go upstairs and give his new badge a nice polish! It would _certainly_ be shining brighter than Penelope's stupid badge!

Percy walked into the room with an uncharacteristic beam. Errol was perched onto his shoulder.

Not only five seconds until after he'd breathed in the scent of the Burrow was he attacked by a wrecked-looking Molly, whom had embraced him so tightly he felt like he'd broken three of his ribs. Errol was so alarmed he immediately flew away, leaving mounds of silvery feathers decorating the living room. That bloody bird was going senile it seemed—and Percy wouldn't live long enough to become senile with how his mum was crushing his internal organs. He supposed he didn't _need_ these organs anyway. Their existence only tempted thirteen-year-old Fred and George to try and do something they found incredibly amusing to them but was, in actuality, exceedingly appalling. This included but was not limited to: them casting a spell that involved repeated punches being administered to his gallbladder, having his stomach stapled because of a potion, or have his liver and brain matter liquefy as a result of them punching up the butterbeer content from nearly trace alcohol to sky-rocketing, fatal percentages.

 _"PERCIVAL IGNATIUS WEASLEY, WHERE WERE YOU ALL NIGHT?!"_ Molly exclaimed, pulling away. He attempted to take a deep breath, but it seemed she might've punctured his frail, pathetic lungs. "Do you know that I haven't slept? I was up all night! _Worried sick!_ I nearly fell asleep at around four o'clock but I've downed that vile tasting thing that Bill drinks when he's going round the pyramids late at night! Especially when Audrey called and she told me that you've had something and—"

Molly's eyes suddenly fell on the emerald green badge in his hand.

She grabbed it from his hand, looking over at it with an excitement glittering in her eyes.

"I think your father owes me quite a few Galleons now, doesn't he?" her eyes shone eagerly with excitement. "And when he pays me, we could go off to Diagon Alley tomorrow and— _is that Ron's letter?"_

" _Mum_ ," Percy groaned. He couldn't believe that his parents bet on whether or not he'd be prefect! _And he couldn't believe his father bet against him!_

Then again, in retrospective, Percy would've bet against his self (and not because of his rising self-esteem either). They normally didn't send badges this late but Errol must have been travelling for _ages_. Merlin knew where he'd gone since Ron's Hogwarts letter was half-dipped in a fine waxy coating of chocolate.

"Yes. It's Ron's—"

 _"IS THAT MY LETTER?!"_ eleven-year-old Ron said from the stairs, walking over to Percy and tearing off the letter from Percy's hands. Percy grumbled to himself _('you could've said 'please' and 'thank you'_ ). He broke off a thing of the milk chocolate coating much to Molly's horror and then placed it into his mouth, chewing avidly. "This is _BRILLIANT!_ Where're Fred and George so I can rub it into their bloody faces?"

" _Ronald_ ," Molly chided whilst Ron was practically skipping about the living room.

"It's eight in the morning," Percy reminded him sharply, not caring nearly enough to scold him for his inappropriate language. Whilst Molly also slept very little, Percy deterred to the fact that Ron didn't come out of his orifices and thus, didn't have to discipline him after an inadequate amount of sleep. "The only place those hooligans would be is—"

Just before Percy could finish his sentence, his skinny, rosy-cheeked brother suddenly ran up the stairs. Percy was sure the twins would need a medal for the day that they got out of bed before noon. A sloppy thing that was! _Sleeping in..._ Unfortunately for Percy, he knew he was going to have to do it now because the thought of staying awake even for another second seemed like pointless torture to him.

"Percy, how was your last shift?" Molly asked, as they both walked upstairs. He supposed that his poor mum couldn't squeeze in an odd nap here and there. The Burrow would probably fall apart without her.

Percy yawned. "Brilliant, until the early afternoon. There was a petition signing going round the Paediatric unit, basically stating that the parents _'don't want the cripple to be drawing blood from our children. It upsets them'_... this, of course, made the disability division absolutely mad with rage. They had this whole spiff that didn't blow over until four in the afternoon! I nearly got discredited for my work if not for the fact that Audrey had managed to persuade my superior to fork over my certification anyway!"

Percy paused when he'd gotten close to the door. "Merlin, I've been reduced to _that cripple_. I already thought it was bollocks that they'd cleared the disability locker for me. And for someone that's apparently _disabled_ , they sure had no problem making me wake up at the crack of dawn."

He turned around to see Molly staring at him with big, shining brown eyes. She looked hurt.

"They call you a cripple?" she didn't look angry, just surprised.

Percy wondered why she was so surprised. "Everyone calls me a cripple, mum," he said, running his hand through his vibrant red hair. He didn't think adding _because I am_ will help the situation. He pushed off his shoes, which literally fell apart when he'd taken them off. He'd have to attempt to mend those later. He started to groggily unbutton his button-down, not even realising he was doing so in front of his mother. "You just don't notice. Though I can't blame you, not a single member of this family notices. When we've gone for shopping last time—the day that you assumed was my birthday, I recall a bloke that was quite liberal regarding my condition. I believe he said that I should get a disability pension and stay at home instead of running amuck in the streets, causing everyone else evident distress."

Well, he couldn't exactly _run_... the thought brought a bright smile to Percy's lip. He'd been smiling much more since he'd had that tea.

"He was talking to _you_?" Molly seemed surprised at this. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Quite frankly, I dislike mentioning such things. I'm only inclined to mention it right now because I'm too tired to filter out anything that might be inappropriate to bring up by my standards," Percy said, pulling over his pyjama top. Merlin, did he just take off his shirt in front of his own mother? At least he wasn't down to his skivvies. Though at the moment, it seemed very tempting given how lethargic he was. He will probably regret that he'd even mentioned the disability comment. "Don't worry, mum. I'm sure as my dear father has mentioned multiple times—walking more will miraculously heal my ruddy useless leg. Though I now believe that _Fred and George_ have more potential than it does."

He laughed at his own comment, even though it wasn't very funny. Merlin, he needed some sleep before he started walking round the house dressed in nothing but an oversized patchwork pillowcase and a pair of frayed Chudley Canons socks, singing the latest tunes of whatever tosser was famous these days.

"You be nice to your brothers," Molly warned. Merlin, that was she decided to comment on? He was recklessly letting her know his deepest fears and agitations, and _this_ was her brimming advice.

He collapsed onto his bed, without bothering to change into the other bit of his pyjamas.

"Why? It's not like _they're_ any nice to me," Percy shifted to the other side of his bed, and pulled his thin blankets over his frame. He tossed his glasses aside as if they were completely worthless, practically falling asleep before his head hit the crocheted pillowcase.

FOR the first time in his whole life, Oliver Wood was trying _not_ to be noticed as he weeded through the streets. Tucked under his strong, muscular arms were an extensive amount of copies of _The Daily Prophet_. Though he'd been out in the humid British weather since half-six, he hadn't sold more than three. Oliver was close to having a mental breakdown. He didn't have money to buy new books, and he didn't think it mattered with how dreadful his grades were. The only thing that kept his sanity at bay were those long Quidditch sessions where nothing existed but him, a broom, two golden hoops, a bunch of fancy balls (two of which happened to made out of pure iron) and the white fluffy clouds.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to meet cloudy grey eyes.

"Marcus?" Oliver called out in shock. _"Marcus Flint?"_

The part-troll only flashed those awful, large crooked teeth. It didn't look like a smile. It looked more like a manticore showing its teeth before it attacked its prey.

"Flint..." Oliver wanted to say _'please don't hex me'_ but that was pathetic. "Were—were you looking for me?"

"Yes, I was looking for _you_ , you bastard. I've been looking all over London! I've heard you take portkeys from Scotland to sell some bloody paper out in Diagon Alley every bloody morning," Marcus exclaimed, puffing out his sharp cheekbones. "You're the one that sent me Christmas owls... _weren't you, Wood?_ "

"I _didn't_ ," Oliver said in a whisper. He was afraid that the owl had angered Marcus.

Yes, an Oliver _did_ send Marcus an owl during the Christmas holidays for the past four years, wishing him a merry Christmas and hoping that he was settling in well. Because Oliver was so poor and had to rely on selling copies of _The Quibbler_ or _The Daily Prophet_ to even attend school, all he could send was what he already had. Over the four years, this included him putting shrunken down Gryffindor sweaters and scarves in the post. He thought the Gryffindor red scarf would be more accommodating with the crimson red of Marcus' uniform and cloak. Oliver saw that a lot of blokes in his house had three or more of the same sweater and thought that he _had_ to, but then realised it was just their preference. Oliver never needed three blankets, or two scarves or five earmuffs. Oliver only ever needed _one_... and it was _cold_ there in Durmstrang.

"I hate Christmas," Marcus spat out coldly. "Why'd you send me that owl?"

Oliver felt like fear might just engulf him entirely. "I—I—I just thought it'd be... _nice_."

Marcus snorted, seemingly finding this funny and then pulled out what appeared to be a photograph from his pocket. With an _Engorgio_ , the photograph grew to its original size. "This is for the owls, Wood. I..." Marcus bit down his lower lip, "Nobody else from Hogwarts sent me owls since I've been to Durmstrang."

Oliver, thinking it was a huge set-up, slowly took the photograph from Marcus and then felt his heart race when he caught sight of the two women standing close to each other and a man in the far corner. A curvy blond with lavender eyes smiling ( _Viola Flint_ —Oliver saw her before), a thin woman with brown hair and blue eyes beaming back, and a man with large glasses, a moustache and freckles on his nose who happened to have a small smile on his lips. Oliver had seen pictures of his parents before, but he'd never _owned_ one.

He looked down at Marcus and then dropped the newspapers in his arms. Oliver wrapped his arms around Marcus Flint, burying his head into his shoulder and breathing in that _awful_ scent of mud and rotten bread.

"I want you to be my friend," Oliver suddenly said, as he pulled away from the hug. He wasn't sure if his eleven-year-old self would believe he'd ever _hugged_ Marcus Flint. "I want you to be my _best_ friend."

Marcus looked surprised and then slowly nodded his head. "Do... do you want to play Quidditch?"


	32. Chapter 32

_i really hate the way i've made Arthur into such a git. he's such a sweetheart, it's just... ugh, why do i enjoy it when Arthur is made a fool of? i try to redeem him. somehow. it's just... it doesn't work. i'm currently attempting to re-write Chapter 38 just to tone down on how awful he seems to be and to attempt to redeem him if only a bit._

 ** _inquiries to previous chapters:_**

 ** _Ward Vermassen:_** _it will take a bit more than Hogwarts to do it i'm afraid. i'm at Chapter 37, however, and i would assume around 39/40, a good amount of the plot would be absolutely obvious (though i keep on skidding about the thing. first i said Chapter 16, then i wedged things in between and now i'm re-writing). though i did hint at it multiple times (ah, the hints!). i've probably rewritten this thing about 3 times. it's nothing near it's first draft. it shall fall into place eventually (hopefully). truthfully, the very first draft of this included a very manic Percy at the end. i believe what happened (in the very original draft and nowhere near what i'm planning on here) was that he at some point, he got absolutely sick of his family, Oblivated them and then became an insane prostitute. and then he slept with Ginny as a revenge schematic... very Game of Thrones. again, thank you for commenting. your comments are absolutely perfect. and you have a stunning week as well!_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Two

* * *

The walls of Percy's room, once azure in colour, were now painted into a Prussian blue. All walls, except for one—which might as well be a big board dating back the amount of books that Percy had and where they were located. The velvety curtains remained a deep brown colour. The large book-based bed was covered by a blanket intertwined with bulbous patches of yellow, red, purple and blue. The pillows were encased with a slip made of crochet. Just beside the bed sat a bookcase, which was overflowing with so many books that three neat piles was stacked up just beside the bed. The piles were so thick and large that one could sit on them – and one had, for there was the presence of a thick pale sheet on top of aforementioned piles simply for that purpose. Just opposite to the bookcase was a large closet with several undergarments floating, with post-its pinned to them that said thing such as _For School, For Special Occasion, For Summer_ and _For Winter_. The floor was covered with a fuzzy scarlet carpet that was home to multiple colourful botches and stains. Littering the floor was an aggregate of slippers and socks, most of them with gaping holes into them.

Sat on the scratchy, uneven table was an open leather-bound journal. Beside the journal was a set of unused quills, a wand and a nearly-torn-to-bits fuzzy purple stuffed cat that had a tendency to bite when Percy didn't get his arse up in the morning. Oh, and of course, beside the bed was a pair of worn-out, deformed shoes. Percy had tossed it aside when he was done with his last hospital shift the previous day.

None of the objects or the familiarity of the place gave Percy Weasley comfort—for he was, indeed, a twat.

 _Oh, for the love of King Arthur and all the Knights of the Round Table, for all of Camelot, why did he have to open his big fat mouth and tell his mum any of the bollocks that he'd said last night?_ Percy cringed internally thinking of all the things he definitely shouldn't have said unless he was under the influence of the Imperius curse.

That questioned remained dutifully unanswered as Percy went to look for appropriate clothes to wear since they were going to have an extended family dinner tonight (yes, there were unfortunately _way_ more Prewett's and Weasley's than Percy cared to even think about). He didn't know why he'd even bothered since no matter what he wore; he would remain increasingly austere and rigid as an army of redheads swarmed the Burrow. Percy supposed that instead of baking an _enormous_ pot roast, they should've been barring the Burrow with an onslaught of protection charms.

On another note, his Prefect badge had already gone missing and if he found out the twins had anything to do with that, he'd chuck them into the bloody river!

Percy shifted to the table, vision locked onto his journal. Had he really kept it _open_ all throughout yesterday? Merlin, he really was a prat. He flickered through the pages, glad to see that the ink was still invisible.

Fred and George hadn't gotten past the _seven_ or so concealing charms that he'd placed on the small diary. If they had, Percy would've butchered them to maintain the smallest semblance of dignity he had left of course.

Out of sheer curiosity, Percy removed the mass of charms he had on them (he said it in a whisper, almost afraid he was being watched and with how those two popped up all the time, he might actually be) and allowed the thick black ink to come alive on the parchment paper. They still smelled the way that Percy had bought them in the shop— _as they should_. For ten sickles each quill, it was far from a bargain! It wasn't exactly like Percy was using phoenix feathers to write his startling trials of the day... though he did have to admit, times like these, where he'd admire the elegant curves the quills made... the price was _almost_ worth it!

Percy stroked the leather latch from his journal, smiling smugly to himself.

The latch alone needed at least five charms (said in a synchronised order, in under a minute) for Percy to unlock. Unfortunately for him, this was not Percy being anal retentive as usual, but was simply him ensuring that those two ninnies didn't get their hands around his secret and most private thoughts.

He closed his journal and put it aside and then focused his attention to the small ebony box he'd kept Scabbers in. It was heaving with holes, so it looked like a thing of Swiss cheese.

In the middle of his sleep the previous night, Percy woke up, unexpectedly remembering that he hadn't fed Scabbers dinner and had looked through his drawers—only to find that the only thing that he could possibly feed Scabbers was a bag of dried plums. Percy didn't want to leave the room and go downstairs at two in the morning because despite how late it was, he could hear Bill talking with his mates about how much of a bellend this Silvanus character was (whom suspiciously sounded like Percy's long lost twin brother from the descriptions that Bill and his friends were using... something he tried to ignore). Thus, he'd ended up shrinking down a five hundred gram bag of dried plums to keep in Scabbers' black box. Just a few seconds after he did so, he added a bit more paper towels and charmed them to get rid of any possible 'waste'. He could imagine that Scabbers would be hungry enough to polish off all of the dried plums, and the only reason Percy kept them around was to help in his— _um_ —digestion.

Fortunately for him, the charmed paper towel seemed to have done the job.

He'd put a levitating spell to the paper towel and _Incendio_ -ed the bloody thing because there was no way that Percy would touch anything so vile. With that in mind, he'd given Scabbers a quick bath, i.e. Percy blasted him with every cleaning spell he knew—and followed it up with a quick drying spell.

"Stop scolding me," Percy said to the rat. Scabbers looked to be in an awful mood. "I didn't have anything other than those plums, alright? And you didn't have to scoff the whole lot now, did you?"

Percy couldn't help but feel his heart pang when he pulled Scabbers into his hands and noticed that he felt like he'd weighed far less than usual. He'd been feeding Scabbers almost every day, but it was really the odd nibble here or there. He hadn't given him anything substantial since he'd started his hospital shifts.

"I'm sorry, Scabbers," he murmured, feeling despondent. "I've not meant to put you on a diet now, right?"

He felt like any moment now, Penelope's reform group would show up at his doorstep, wondering how dare he neglect to feed his sweet little pet rat. Percy sighed deeply, and stroked Scabbers' fur almost to console him. Perhaps, he should not reproduce in the future for his children will slowly die of famine and his misfortune—not that he was going to reproduce either way after seeing his mum go. Seven in and out of the oven! He was surprised that aforementioned oven was still working. Every year, he closed his eyes, crossed his fingers and prayed to any deity in existence: _please, please, let my mum use adequate protection charms this year._

"I'll slip you in during dinner, but you _cannot_ make a fuss," Percy warned the rat.

With thoughts of dinner, Percy sped towards his closet to change before those rapscallions came round and would annoy him so much that changing wouldn't be an option. He slipped into a pair of stone-grey trousers and a white button-down. He'd tried to look through his room to find a pair of shoes he might've tossed and neglected considering that there was no way he was wearing the two things of old dragonhide on the floor beside his bed. After searching high and low, he found his old abandoned plimsolls stuck in his closet. _Great_. He found his school shoes. They even still smelled like the Fat Lady's portrait. He should know because a pair of nosy, irritating Gryffindors stuck his plimsolls under said portrait last year. He'd been walking round the castle without shoes for _a month_ before he found them!

Right. He looked like a plonker but they didn't expect any more from him.

After he was done dressing up, he'd picked up Scabbers and put him into his front pocket before wandering downstairs, hoping his mum had some nibbles out. Percy fed Scabbers just about anything, considering he'd done so before and the rat never seemed to have any problem with it—slightly strange, but Scabbers was a _Weasley_ rat, so what was so strange about the fact that Scabbers could scoff off his mum's roast dinner with all the trimmings?

Every surface in the Burrow seemed to be utilised. There were three massive tables set up in the living room, two in the kitchen and three tables outside. Every knick-knack and oddity was pushed aside to make room for these tables. The couches, chairs and loveseats have been shrunken down so that they were just about the size of Scabbers' little black box. The terrifying thing about this was that Percy knew just like every other extended family gathering, he and the rest of his siblings were going to be sitting on the ground because there would be _no space_ for them elsewhere.

Oh, and his Aunt Esmeralda just popped three of them last month!

Percy felt like he was in a breeding centre. Every time he closed his eyes, more of them popped up! This family bred quicker than a kaleidoscope of Flitterbies!

The worst thing was that only Percy seemed to realise how bloody insane this was. Many a times Percy thought of implying a more permanent level of birth control when it came to his older brothers. He could just imagine it now... Bill married off to some Egyptian floozy, coming back home with three children strung up each arm and two on his back! Ten years from now, they'd have to rent the Great Hall in Hogwarts for family gatherings and with how Charlie was going about those _stupid_ dragons; Percy would be related to a 'very attractive' Norwegian Ridgeback.

The cold thing was that regardless of how big the family, however; Percy was the odd one out.

He was _the prat_. He was the _joke_ amongst seventy-two others (Percy took the time to count last year but he'd bet there were dozens more this year). He was always the target of their jokes. They wrecked havoc just to irritate him—and last year, twenty of them were crammed into his room, trying to find a way to open his diary. The year before that, they'd decided to use his carefully written Hogwarts essays to decorate a Christmas tree two days after Christmas... and then set it ablaze. Great fun _that_ was because it wasn't like it Percy took weeks to write those essays! He actually _cried_ when he saw the ashes.

THE ruckus didn't start until five in the afternoon. It was later than last year, Percy would give them that.

He was sat sandwiched between his Liam Prewett, whom decided to tell Percy that he found a nice boy for him to date that was just as big of a prat as he was (apparently, he just got out of Azkaban) and Janice Weasley, whom said something about the fact that he could do with losing a few stones. Somehow, his mum didn't intervene until then and it sounded something like: _"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE COULD LOSE A FEW STONES?"_ to which Janice quieted down and started to exchange recipes for low-fat crumpets before starting squeezing at his sides. Percy thought that was particularly funny since Janice was twenty-four bloody stone. And she stole all his roast potatoes.

He'd barely fed Scabbers a thing with her fork pushing against his plate every five seconds or so. Blimey.

Now he knew why she'd only put salad on her plate and a small thing of a chicken breast. Apparently, food didn't make you put on any weight it if it was off someone else's plate!

Then Janice tried to convince Percy to give her son some of his pudding. The last thing that bastard needed was a pudding considering that forty-eight stone behemoth had been sitting on Percy's dodgy leg for the past half hour and it took all of Percy not to stick a fork into his side. Percy would bet ten Galleons that instead of blood gushing out of _little_ Wally's side, he'd be hit by a river of sweet vanilla frosting.

He didn't know if he'd rather sit by Esmeralda, whom looked like she was going to kneel over and die of starvation, despite the fact that she scoffed a whole custard pie by herself and that wasn't counting how many plates of the Sunday roast she'd gobbled down. Still Percy didn't even know she was pregnant last time around (much less expecting triplets) but apparently, _he_ should get his glasses fixed because her concave belly was _less_ concave than it had been before!

Merlin, he was quickly losing any fragment of sanity he had left in him. Not to mention that he was _starving._

Every time he'd had something on his plate someone took it off, or Percy felt awful and fed it to Scabbers. The poor thing didn't get much to eat either and Percy was absolutely delirious from hunger.

He disappeared down to where his mum kept the pots. Whilst Percy couldn't feel the pain (and he was thankful for it. If he had to feel the pain of a forty-eight stone bloke on his leg, he'd have probably committed a serious crime), he could _barely_ walk. He'd had to practically hop his way to the pots because he kept on tripping and falling straight on his arse.

Merlin bless his mum. She'd made enough food to feed the whole of Devon yet it was unsurprisingly disappearing at an alarming rate. He picked up one of the plates and found himself piling his plate with an absurd amount of roast potatoes ( _"that fat git is eating again?"_ said Wally, as Percy crammed Yorkshire puds and chicken onto his plate before bathing it with an inane amount of gravy). Percy went to sit with his mum on one of the tables, whom literally had a seat freed up next to her only a second ago. He pulled out Scabbers out of his pocket, hid him under the table and let him nibble on a few Yorkshire puds, chicken drumsticks and a multitude of roast potatoes.

Percy kept on feeding Scabbers until the rat refused to eat another potato. He then pocketed his grey-furred pet, straightening himself up so that he'd tackle on whatever was left of his plate...

One potato, two Yorkshire puddings, a chicken thigh and one drumstick.

Percy turned to look at the food pots, which were so empty that they'd looked like they'd just been blasted with a cleaning charm. That was fine. It wasn't like his hunger was so bad that it was cutting ridges into his stomach or anything.

Percy grabbed a cup of pumpkin juice and downed it down.

Suddenly, he opened his mouth and a _coarse ring of fire_ escaped, burning half the table. Thankfully, the only causalities seemed to be Percy's dinner along with half of an empty bread basket.

Percy was _chuffed_. This was exactly what he was missing in his life! _The ability to breathe fire!_

 _"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!"_ Molly boomed towards the twins.

"Don't worry, mum," oh, good-humoured, amiable Fred said. "It'll wear off in a few hours!"

George then grinned wildly. "The only thing Perce really has to do is to keep that big mouth of his shut!"

"So, you mean this whole house is going to burn down?" Bill called out in jest, only for Percy to shoot a look over at his well-meaning brother.

Percy's blood was boiling. The happiness in his heart. _Gone_. As if he didn't deserve it. He opened his mouth to tell them off, only to accidentally burn a bit of the carpet, and one of their chairs—but that was alright considering that it wasn't like they were extremely poor or anything of that sort! No! They were _swimming_ in Galleons. He hiccupped again, sending a ring of fire down to their stained, blotchy Persian carpet and his mum's casserole (he hoped mum didn't mind flambéed casserole). A scream followed thereby after, but what was more evident was the intense cacophonous laughter filling the room.

 _"FRED AND GEORGE, IF YOU DON'T APOLOGISE THIS INSTANCE AND FIX THIS PROBLEM RIGHT NOW, I'LL MAKE SURE YOU TWO WILL REGRET IT!"_ Molly's enraged voice filled the Burrow.

"Come on, Molly, they're just children playing a bit of a joke." Andrew Prewett asked; a good natured grin appearing on his face. "Besides, it's nice to see Percy has something interesting to say for one."

Percy glared over at Andrew. _I wouldn't say that, uncle. You aren't the one that could breathe fire._

 _"Oi! CHARLIE!"_ fourteen-year-old Jane Weasley said from behind him, her bright red bob bouncing as she beamed. "Do you want to have a go at taming Prissy?"

Charlie blushed deeply, and said nothing.

Caiden Prewett seemed to notice Percy all of a sudden (how hard was it to miss someone that was six foot bloody tall?) and then grinned wildly, "Hey, Perce. I didn't see you there! Nice pants. Better than the ones you wore last year. It could've been part of the Gay Parade over in bloody Bath!"

Percy was seething. Those were as a result of the twins' _vibrant_ prank first of all and second of all, at least _he_ wasn't the one that wore bright pink underpants as evident by a certain lake trip in 1989!

Percy's ears had gone red, and he found himself looking down at the ground—where he'd burned the bloody carpet. The twins had outright humiliated him, but why was he so surprised? He could feel a burning sensation at the edge of his throat. Out of the corner of his eyes, he'd found Aunt Muriel throwing around that ratty, old mauve-coloured purse, trying to hit something. A mound of beauty products were spewing out of the purse at an alarming rate and Percy recognised poor little Scabbers in the midst of the scurry.

He immediately hurried over towards the corner of the room, trying to catch Scabbers, but instead, he was socked with Aunt Muriel's purse.

Molly immediately walked over to Percy, placing her hands on his shoulders. He tried to keep his mouth shut, because he preferred his mum—well— _alive_.

Percy glared over at Aunt Muriel, whom still kept on chasing Scabbers and trying to give him a good whack. He could hear from behind him that there were bets being placed on which aunt was going to kill Scabbers first. Nobody was going to _kill_ Scabbers... not over Percy's dead body they weren't.

His eyes widened when he noticed that his Aunt Amelia also joined in soon afterwards, waving around that death trap she called a purse. That thing probably weighed as much as he did!

Percy's heart was racing and he found bile— _or fire_ —rising in his throat.

He pried himself away from his mum's hands. It killed him that nobody was helping get Scabbers. He was _not_ just a filthy rat for Godric's sake.

He accidentally opened his mouth and thus, accidentally burned a huge chunk of the Weasley family clock. Thankfully, the rest of it was still intact.

 _Oh, just splendid_ , Percy thought to himself. _Not like that clock is a wad of rubbish now, is it?_

When Scabbers got a good whack from Amelia's purse, Percy actually felt a part of him die.

His heart suddenly sunk into his chest as he dropped to down to Scabbers' level and took the poor rat into his hands. Though he knew Scabbers wasn't going to put on his usual weight in one meal, he was reminded of how much of an awful failure he was when he picked up poor light Scabbers.

Furious, Percy got up from where he was and stormed back into his room. Anyone that dared to sit into his room, he'd bloody murder. He wasn't in the mood for anyone's gestures or comments about Scabbers.

He slipped into his room and sat on his bed. He thought of adding on a few locking charms but remembered that thanks to the twins, he wouldn't even be able to lock that blasted twopenny-halfpenny door. Percy turned his body away from the door, just in case anyone was to come in and pulled out a box of tissues in front of him. The pain in his leg came back double what Percy remembered. If he had been standing up, he would've collapsed and easily have shattered something. His bones felt bendable, his skin felt like it was on fire, and he could feel it radiating from his leg to his spine... a deep slicing pain that made him want to find something sharp to undo himself. At the same time, the crippling pain in his leg didn't matter.

Percy turned Scabbers around in his palm. He seemed so stiff, and thick viscous blood was pooling from his little mouth. He brought the rat close to him, letting salty tears run down his cheeks.

How _dare_ they do this to Scabbers! _How dare they hurt him!_

Percy slowly stroked his little rat. He could think of a thousand healing charms and it killed him to know that he couldn't say any of them. The only comfort he took in was that Scabbers was alive considering how his little pink limbs kept on twitching, but he seemed so weak and so close to death. Percy was so downtrodden and humiliated. Percy was sure he had a reason to be happy about yesterday, but it all seemed to come crashing down on him this afternoon.

He immediately wiped his tears away angrily, hating himself for being weak. He grabbed a few tissues, rubbing out his eyes. He would take deep breaths, _but apparently, the twins had taken even that from him!_

"Percy? Can I come in?" Molly asked; walking into the room without waiting for a response.

Percy hoped that it didn't look like he'd been crying, or else he'd have lost it.

He watched his mother walk towards him and sit beside him, placing a hand on his thigh.

"Oh my..." Molly shook her head before pulling out her wand. "Let me look at Scabbers now."

Percy pulled his hands away from his mother, keeping Scabbers out of her grip. He didn't trust anyone with Scabbers that wasn't himself, not even his own mother. If anything else would happen to Scabbers and he'd get hurt, then Percy wouldn't know what to do with himself. He slowly placed Scabbers on top of his crocheted pillowcase and stroked him softly. The blood seemed to have disappeared from his mouth, but he looked very ill. It made Percy's stomach twist into knots. He knew he should push his pride away for Scabbers, but he just couldn't find himself able to.

Molly slowly caressed Percy's magically-flattened dull red hair.

"Percy, it's fine. I won't hurt him," she said, almost as if she could hear him thinking out loud. He finally gave in, and handed Scabbers over to his mum. Molly muttered a healing spell under her breath and he watched Scabbers suddenly jump up and spring veraciously to Percy's waiting hands. He felt his heart warm, seeing Scabbers more animated than he'd ever been, running into Percy's sleeves and down his chest. "I know that the twins could be a little hard at times—I promise I _am_ going to punish them after this—and I know that things are a little difficult with the rest of the family and they are treating you a little cruelly because you're a little different but..."

Molly chuckled, offering a soft smile. "I lost the point I was trying to make."

Percy looked back at his mum, as Scabbers' feet tickled into his bellybutton before the rat emerged from the cotton cave, settling on Percy's thigh for the moment.

"There's some cake downstairs if you want it," Molly gave his shoulder a squeeze before she left.

Percy watched his mum disappear before he looked back down; just glad to see Scabbers stare back at him with those black beady eyes. A smile formed on his lips and he found himself slowly stroking Scabbers.

Percy had calmed himself down sufficiently enough to prevent himself from doing something ridiculous—only for his blood pressure to rise exponentially as his door was jammed open and little twelve-year-old Wanda Prewett walked inside of his room as if she'd been invited! The loathsome little thing couldn't keep her hand out of Percy's things. Last time she'd visited, she'd thrown Percy's underpants into the oven (thankfully she'd missed some of his more embarrassing choice of underpants) and attempted to feed them to poor old Errol... He was never the same after that incident!

Wanda offered him an obnoxious smile, which seemed more than condescending even with her innocuous freckled features.

"Percy, what're you doing?" she stared over at Scabbers, and he protectively pulled Scabbers closer to him.

She started to rummage round his room, throwing away books and tossing robes.

"What's _that_?" when Percy saw what she was holding he'd thrown Scabbers across his bed and immediately ran to tear the magazine from her small hands. His ears were red and his cheeks were even redder. He was so bloody _mortified_. "Why don't these women have clothes on?"

Just to make that moment brighter, Arthur just decided to drop. "Who doesn't have any clothes on?"

 _"Percy has adult magazines!"_ Wanda yelled, making both Percy and Arthur flush into a fetching beetroot red.

Percy was sweating profusely from agitation and nervousness. He'd accidentally opened his mouth to speak, only for a whole thing of fire to escape his mouth, burning his Honeydukes-stained scarlet carpet instantly. Wanda laughed and then walked out of the room, proclaiming to the whole house about _Percy looking at nude women_. Well, that was a good run for today. Percy would perhaps just let the fire burn and take him alive, but he'd suppose his father wouldn't fancy Percy destroying his room—it cost money to repair after all.

 _"Aguamenti!"_ Percy jolted up hearing the sound of his father's voice.

Arthur's wand was pointed towards the inferno, which was doused out instantly. Percy's cheeks remained flushed, as he took in the charcoal-coloured carpet. The wood underneath also looked severely damaged.

A heavy feeling sat in his body and Percy found himself with sunken shoulders. Nice to know that he was completely and utterly _useless_ as a wizard.

Arthur's eyes twinkled in the dim lighting of Percy's room.

Percy was somewhat glad he couldn't say much to his father. Somehow, as the years passed, he and his father's relationship hadn't improved one bit. If anything, Arthur and Percy were even more distant than both ever thought possible. Fumbling with their pockets, they stood with equal heights, mirroring glasses and slender, thin builds. Arthur had put on a lot of weight when Percy was younger but seemed to have lost it all back up again in the recent years, garnering Molly's attention to say the least. Bill's weight loss as well, considering that since he'd been to work for Gringott's, he'd lost all that muscle that he'd had on during his Hogwarts' years, where he had time to exercise for hours. Percy actually missed his mum nagging at him about how small he was, because at least, then he felt like a _child_ of some sort - well, now, he could pass off as _older than Bill_ as evident by his time with Audrey. Percy felt an uneasy tension in the air that hung so thick that he actually felt weighted down by it. Percy felt like he'd lost all sense of youth; almost as if he had aged twenty years. He felt his body falter dramatically before he placed his hands into the pockets of his pants and looked down.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Adult magazines?"

Percy shook his head before collapsing on his chair, looking down at his ruined carpet.

"And I've supposed that you and a girl might've..." he made an interlocking-like gesture with his finger, only for Percy's eyes to widen as large as dinner plates. _What in Merlin's name was that gesture?_ If Arthur was asking if he'd ever shagged anyone, Percy would have to put his mind to the task of learning a few memory charms!

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Arthur said all of a sudden. He was toying with the torn sleeves of one of the four suits he owned. "I mean you're a young lad. Perhaps too young to be running around frolicking with girls. I mean if this happened last year, you'd have been fourteen years old, Percy and fourteen is not—"

Percy opened his mouth again, noticing that no fire came out. Thank Merlin.

"Father, that's enough," Percy finally said, sighing deeply.

Percy waited for Arthur to leave but the man didn't. Instead, he stood there, staring at Percy whilst he was shuffling with his pockets. There was a time where Percy was enticed by those dark blue suits and official Ministry robes, which Arthur hadn't had a chance to take off since he'd been home. There was a time where he leaped up from the couch the second his father came home and walked upstairs with him, babbling incessantly about _anything_ and _everything_. There was a time where Percy was begging for any kind of attention from his father. Unfortunately, next time, Percy would have to bear in mind whenever he wished for attention, he had to ensure that it be _positive_ attention. At the moment, Percy would be surprised if Arthur had something to say that wouldn't send Percy into hysterical self-destruction.

"Let's go for a walk," Arthur suddenly decided, because Percy was _itching_ to go on a walk right now. It wasn't like a near fifty stone mammoth probably killed whatever muscle tissue he had in his leg by sitting on it for the last hour or so. "You barely walk as it is."

Percy wanted to decline, but apparently, it wasn't a choice because his father grabbed him by his hand and pulled him out of his bed as if dealing with a discontent three-year-old.

"I'll even buy you ice-cream," Arthur insisted.

Percy tried not to remind Arthur that what excited him at seven wasn't exactly going to bring the same bliss to him now. Percy stood up, biting down his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. If he'd had a cane, that would be wonderful but canes cost money... and fifteen-year-olds shouldn't be wandering around with canes because it was _blasphemy!_ There was no way a child like Percy could have a condition that impaired them to the point of disability. His ability to spew sophisticated words and achieve an _Outstanding_ even on the hardest assignments somehow should be able to mend any problem he'd have with this leg of his! _Right?_

"WHY do you always cheat?" Oliver asked with a raised eyebrow. He'd just finished changing and was decked in a pair of black jeans and a thin bright orange jumper. They just finished what had to be his and Marcus' fourth Quidditch game in a couple of days, and he'd always noticed that Marcus seemed to have a habit of—well, breaking every single Quidditch rule in the book . "I don't get it; mate because you're _actually_ good at it. You don't need to cheat. I think you can even be better than me if you don't cheat, but don't let no-one hear me say that a dumb troll is better than me at Quidditch."

Oliver then realised how that came across and flushed, "Not that _you're_ dumb or anything."

"Shut up, you bastard," Marcus chuckled, even though nothing that Oliver said was funny. The Gryffindor watched as Marcus pulled up an oversized black t-shirt over his head that oddly smelled of something burnt. He then sat down on the bench to put on his loafers, which looked like they were chewed up by a crup.

Oliver flushed even more. "Marcus?"

Marcus looked up with a raised eyebrow, still irritated.

"When we go back t-t-... to Hogwarts," Oliver stammered. He wasn't used to saying what he wanted outright, and he was sure that Marcus wouldn't be happy by long introductions and reasons. "I don't want anyone to know that we're friends now. I want them to think that we still hate each other."

Marcus looked surprised. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to imply, Wood?"

"I... I don't want anyone to pick on me because of you," Oliver explained. Marcus slowly nodded his head, aggressively tying his shoelaces. "I'm sorry, Marcus. I really am. By the way, your—"

"Shut up," Marcus repeated. Oliver was going to tell him that he'd tied his shoelaces together.

APPARATING to Diagon Alley, Arthur was pleasantly surprised to see the streets virtually empty.

He'd wished he'd changed his suit or at least took off these heavy Ministry robes before he decided to take Percy down here for the quick spot of pudding. The night was rather humid, and he felt himself perspiring with the stiff weather. For a good ten minutes, Arthur walked alongside a wobbly Percy. They passed a whole range of small, gaudy shops that were having school sales. As the minutes passed, Arthur felt the presence of a cool and gentle breeze toying with his freckled skin. With every few steps, Arthur found himself glancing at his bespectacled, straight-faced son whom looked mildly frustrated at this ice-cream shop invitation. Arthur knew that he and Percy hadn't been close, especially the past few years. They seemed to drift further and further away with each passing day. Still... Arthur didn't expect his son to look so _cold_ towards him with relatively no reason!

"What kind of ice-cream flavour do you prefer?" Arthur suddenly mentioned, seeing as they were only a few minutes away from Fortescue's.

Bill preferred strawberry. Charlie had no preference, but insisted on mixing a heinous amount of chocolate or strawberry syrup to any of his ice-creams. Fred and George often shared ice-cream sandwiches. Ron didn't mind as long as it was filled with an abundance of oddities, and his darling Ginny loved hers absolutely caked with chocolate – chocolate ribbons, chocolate-covered almonds, chocolate chips. Had Arthur even taken Percy out for ice-cream before? He must've... but it had been _so long_ that he couldn't recall anything. Butterscotch. Wait... _Butterscotch, toffee, caramel._ Arthur recalled Percy polishing off three chocolate caramel sweets as he was reading his book out on the couch.

"I don't want ice-cream," Percy immediately said, though Arthur shouldn't have been the least bit surprised.

Percy barely ate as it was, and ever since he'd come back from Hogwarts, he'd started to look thinner—just like he did every single summer he'd come back from Hogwarts. Last year, he'd gotten so thin during the summer that he'd actually passed out at King's Cross station. It seemed to Arthur that unless there was someone nagging him to eat, he probably wouldn't even bother. Arthur had no idea why Percy had such a great distaste to food. It felt like ages ago that Arthur found Percy in the kitchen at the two in the morning, having have polished off a whole chocolate fudge cake on his own and was clutching his soft, slightly protruding stomach with frosting-covered fingers, looking eerily ill.

"Your mother is worried about you, Percival," Arthur tried to remind him.

Percy looked back at him and without warning, stopped walking and sat down on the bench. Arthur found Percy's intolerance to walking amusing and sat down beside him.

"Can't outrun your old man, can you?" Arthur joked, but Percy's face remained rigid.

"Why are we here?" Percy obviously knew that there was an agenda with this.

Arthur sighed deeply. He knew that his son would ask this question. For the past few days, Molly had been bombarding Arthur with her woes and worries regarding her middle son. Arthur was the unfortunate victim of the long, relentless hours Molly spent ranting to him about the fact that Percy took care of Scabbers better than he did himself. After all, she'd lost it that evening when his primary focus was getting Scabbers something to nosh on, _almost_ like he was taking care of an infant rather than a shabby old rodent he'd found wedged between two piles of dusty wood a while back! Molly went on and on about how he was overworking himself to the bones even during the summer time and how she felt like one day, he would snap and break into a thousand little pieces with no hopes of gluing the shards back together. Arthur consoled her, wiping away those tears from her rubicund cheeks and insisted that he would remedy the situation.

"Your mother wanted me to get you something for your birthday," Arthur suddenly stated, voice stiff.

Percy sighed in exasperation and nodded his head. "Fine."

Arthur wondered why Percy seemed to want to stay away from getting gifts this year. This was not normal behaviour from a fifteen-year-old and it made him appear artless and puerile instead of sagacious and perspicacious like Percy preferred to come off as. "Some would be grateful."

Percy gave a dumbfounded look. He looked like he wanted to quip back, but held his tongue.

"Is there something you wanted to say, Percy?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

Percy still seemed to be in disbelief. "I don't appreciate your tone, father."

"I don't appreciate your attitude, Percival," Arthur mumbled, reiterating it in the same tone that Percy offered him. "So, is there something you wanted to say?"

Percy's eyes hardened. "It's _my_ attitude that needs a change? Oh, please, father. Don't make me laugh."

"Can you laugh?" Arthur challenged, only for Percy to roll his eyes.

Percy laughed. It was dry and uninspired. "See? _I_ can laugh," he snapped.

Arthur's blood was boiling. He didn't know why Percy had to make such a ruddy mess out of things, why he couldn't just be like any other child instead of being harder to read than a text written entirely in Elvish.

"Stop being such a bloody child," Arthur spat out, expecting a harsh retaliation.

He was not prepared for Percy's face to contort to hurt. Percy looked like he'd been slapped in the face. The worst thing was he wasn't sure what was wrong with his statement. He'd told off Charlie for being childish only two days ago, and his redheaded son only beamed in response. Arthur attempting to playfully shove Charlie, only for him to remember that his son was built like a brick wall. He remembered Charlie's laughter ringing into his ear ( _"am I getting too much for you, old man?"_ ). With that expression, Arthur would've thought that Percy looked like he'd seen a man being _Crucio_ -ed in front of him!

"Let's just go back to the house," Arthur said, trying to pull Percy out of whatever reverie he was in.

"I suppose that's fine," Percy placed his hands in the pocket, and they stayed silent for the journey back.


	33. Chapter 33

_was i supposed to post this days ago? like 3-4? yes. i just became somewhat lazy._

 _ **warnings: solation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**... that 'God know what else i decide to put in last minute' includes **suicidal ideation (possibly an attempt may it be successful or not later on) and mentions/possible illustrations of self-harm.** _

_**self-harm is mentioned here** , but there is no graphic description. the owlery scene is one of my favourites. i absolutely love it._

 _oh my God, **Harry Potter...** ( somehow) mentioned in a Harry Potter fanfic? it's the end of the world as we know it!_

 _ **replies to any inquiries posed:**_

 _ **LittlebigmouthOKC** : i actually really liked your comment. i don't know why but it does make sense. honestly, i'm not sure how Arthur/Percy's relationship would grow eventually or if Arthur changes at some point completely but it's definitely been hectic to say the least!_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Three

* * *

The morning didn't start off well for Molly Weasley. She was just cleaning Percy's bedroom because she hadn't this summer since he'd been at home (though he was doing a fine job of maintaining it himself. _Barely_ anything to clean) and found four empty discs in Percy's bin that sent her in hysterics.

" _Four tins_ of it?" Charlie rubbed his arm with a quick glance back towards Percy outside. "Blimey, what's he been doing with _four bloody tins of Paisley and Holland's Extremely Effective Scar Remover_ over the last month?"

Molly picked up a second-hand cauldron and gave it to Charlie to hold.

"Maybe..." Molly paused, feeling her heart sink into her chest as she turned her head back to look at the see-through shop windows. Just outside of the shop, Percy was sat down on one of the benches, legs crossed in a startling, upsetting manner _(how did he manage to cross his legs like that without both of his legs giving away?)._ "Maybe he's just scraped himself a few times in the hospital is all. He _was_ working with children."

Charlie simply shook his head. "Mum..." his voice was quieter now. "Have you ever thought that—?"

"Yes?" Molly said, as she surveyed the second-hand shop for anything else that she could buy for Ron.

They'd already given Ron a few of Percy's old robes, hats, gloves and cloaks. The gloves were a little too tight but nothing an enlargement charm couldn't fix. The robes were a little long on Ron's diminutive frame, but the healers said he'd be just as tall— _or taller_ —than Bill, Arthur and Percy so Molly kept her fingers crossed and just hoped that he'd just grow into them soon enough. She didn't want to try a severing charm because last she'd tried that on a robe, it ended up in tatters. Charlie and Bill rummaged through the whole Burrow, trying to find their old books to give to Ron considering Percy had a disquieting grip towards any book he'd ever received. Percy had a lewd fear of giving away a book and finding himself in a situation where he _needed_ to use it. Percy wouldn't have it when Bill and Charlie told him that he didn't need some of the books he had at all. This just added on to the list of worrying behaviour that Molly saw from Percy.

With books and clothing aside, they'd bought him a second-hand cauldron and a few glass phials and brass scales that Percy insisted shouldn't be second-hand (apparently, these were a threat to Ron's safety). Charlie was giving Ron his telescope since for some reason that Bill refrained from explaining, he was still using his.

"Mum," Charlie's voice was very stern. "Remember when I sent you a few pictures of this lass over at the Reserve, right? And you asked me why her arm was so bloody mutilated—well, you said it in a _nicer_ way but you get the gist of it, right?—and I said that she used to hack her skin off with a kitchen knife _on purpose_?"

Molly slowly nodded her head, her stomach sinking. She didn't like where this was going.

"Charlie, are you suggesting that Percy...?" Molly looked over at the window, eyes on the bench.

She saw Ron walk up to Percy, carrying a huge thing of ice-cream, which was just about to burst from the extensive amount of toppings on it— _was that a whole cauldron cake in place of an ice-cream cup?_ Ron sat beside his older brother and started to demolish it. Molly had been in such a hurry that early morn they'd all forgotten their wands back at home. Ron had even forgotten to wear shoes, so Percy had lent him those ugly, old plimsolls, which slipped off his little eleven-year-old feet ever so often. Thus, Percy was sitting on the bench, clad in a pair of deep brown pants and a caramel-coloured shirt... and on his feet were Charlie's yellow-and-black _Wimbourne Wasps_ socks that looked so strikingly out of place that it amused Bill and Charlie greatly. Bill lazily followed Ron afterwards, a pleased look speckled across his freckled features.

Molly stared over at her tall, thin sons, gripping tightly onto a grimly old box. "No, Charlie... _No_."

"Bill says he thinks Percy's given his leg a whack on purpose once," Charlie suddenly said. She felt her heart do a somersault before bile started to rise in her scratchy throat. "Mum, _it makes sense._ He's always wearing those long sleeves. Most of the time, every bloody inch of him is covered. If he's been hurting himself, then trying to cover it up by using what's in those tins... well, I wouldn't put it past him."

"Let's just go pay for these," Molly said, trying to recover from the images floating around in her head.

"Mum, I—"

"I mean it, Charles," a frustrated Molly stated, looking exasperated. "Let's go pay for these _NOW_."

Molly could barely pull out the few sickles that she needed for the cauldron before they left the second-hand store. By then, all three of them were sitting down. Bill was whistling and gently cocking his head from side to side. Ron managed to finish most of his ice-cream and Percy was still sitting with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs crossed in— _in that abhorrent position_. How could Percy even cross his leg like that? For Salazar's sake, didn't his bones have anything to say about it?

"Percy, show me your arms," Molly immediately said, before thrusting the bag towards a nervy Charlie.

 _"What?"_ Percy looked up, looking a mixture of confounded and irritated.

"Never mind, Percy. We'll do it at home," Molly was obviously not in her best mood, as she sighed deeply. She ran her hand through her frazzled vivacious red hair. "You'll strip down in once we've turned in, alright? Let your mum have a look at you."

"I am _not_ stripping down in front of my own mother!" Percy called out. Ron looked like he was about to double over with laughter, and he'd definitely earned a few snickers and glances from those passing by. "I'd rather be cursed by an Unforgivable and be done with! What's brought this up anyway, right? Why do you have to have me down to my skivvies?"

"Oh, love, when I said strip down, I mean your underpants as well," Molly said coolly, only for him to stare at her with a flabbergasted expression. For a few seconds, the only thing that broke the silence was Ron's guffawing. It felt like any second now, a stream of ice-cream, brownies and cauldron cake was going to scarper from every one of his orifices from how intensely he was laughing.

"Mum, Percy mightn't be right in the head. I agree with that assessment," Charlie leaned slightly down and said, in an extremely soft voice, "but he's not _that_ much of a loony."

 _"Charlie!"_ Molly exclaimed hotly. "Fine, you can keep them on, but the rest is off and I'll hear no more of it."

AS THEY walked down towards the end of the street, Molly paused and told Charlie and Ron to stay outside whilst she and Percy went into Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Yesterday when Arthur came back home and told her Percy didn't get himself a gift, she felt her blood pressure rising... she _refused_ to accept this-this _rubbish!_

Molly had a talk with Arthur last night, and they'd both agreed that they'd get Percy any owl he wanted since he'd been made prefect. She'd remembered that she did promise Percy that when she'd gotten paid by Arthur for their harmless little wager, she was going to buy him whatever he wanted. Molly had no idea what that was, and she was sure if she'd toured through the whole of Diagon Alley, she'd probably not find anything that would catch his interest just like last time... but still, Molly saw the deep affection Percy had for Scabbers! If he'd be so smitten about an ugly, old rat he rescued from a few planks of filthy wood, then surely, he'd be bloody ecstatic to get an _owl_ then, wouldn't he?

Molly remembered the first time that Bill got his owl; he was absolutely in love with her!

Funny thing was that Bill hated all animals and didn't even find a particular liking towards owls even growing up, but for the first few days that he'd gotten one, he wouldn't stop messing about with her.

She opened the door to Eeylops Owl Emporium, only to hear that awful ruckus. Molly shouldn't have been surprised though. It _was_ an Owl Emporium after all. From all the times she'd been here, there'd always been that ear-shattering noise.

Molly walked inside along with Percy, peering around the cages herself. These were very nice-looking ones, these were! All the feathers intact, youthful and energetic— _and noisy. Very noisy._

She saw a blonde employee try to advise to a few teenagers on which owl to buy. The screeching, hooting and bristling about was really doing her ears in—and then it suddenly stopped when Percy emerged into the centre of the room. Big blue eyes, framed by his horn-rimmed glasses, were lapping up the cages. His face remained restrained and dispassionate.

The blonde seemed so surprised at the sudden silence that she'd stopped speaking in the middle of her sentence. The bow-legged, dark-haired teenagers beside her also seemed wide-eyed and mystified as they stared over at Percy like he was about to _Confringo_ the Emporium at any given moment.

Just before the blonde said anything, Molly timidly said, "My son's just got a _special thing_ with animals."

"Special thing?" the blonde asked with a squeak. "He's not going to hurt any of them, is he?"

Molly gave her a glare that seemed to silence her. The glare melted in seconds, and was quickly followed by, "Merlin, I just hope he doesn't become a dragon tamer."

Percy tried to balance himself out, but failed immensely. He instantly grabbed a part of a cherry wood table, which immediately came apart at the seams and collapsed. A few cages collapsed and shattered, owls were freed from their second-hand pale cages; flying about haphazardly with alarm.

 _" Him a dragon tamer?"_ the blonde muttered, as she put the cages up near the closed window and mended them with a _Reparo_. "I'd believe that the minute that the Chudley Canons win the Quidditch World Cup."

Percy's cheeks coloured in deeply as one owl flew, settling on his shoulder.

"Oh, he could be a dragon tamer if he wants!" Molly exclaimed, trying to weakly defend Percy. It was then that she added on, "But I'd kill him if he even _thinks_..."

 _"Mum!"_ Percy exclaimed, the owl flying from Percy's shoulder. He flew in a way reminiscent of Errol. If Percy would do something as disgusting and inefficient as gambling, he'd bet that this owl— _like Errol_ —dreaded the thought of having to send a letter to someone that was further than fifty feet away from him.

"It's true," Molly murmured. "Like I need you to have an excuse to buy more scar removing—"

Exacerbated, Percy, for some unholy reason, decided that it would be appropriate to tell his mum exactly why he'd been using Paisley and Holland's Extremely Effective Scar Remover for.

"Do you know why I've been buying those creams?" Percy suddenly spat out acerbically. This time, his mouth was definitely working faster than his head. "It's because I've got a scar planted on a _very_ intimate part of me due to a sweet little hex. In her defence, no pain was involved... just the scarring. I was highly drunk and happened to mention a comment to Penelope that was— _um, less than proper_. In all sense, I deserved it but I've no idea why I can't get rid of that bloody thing. It's the size of a pumpkin pasty! Last I've had to undress in front of the boy's locker room in St Mungo's; they asked me if I was bitten during..."

Percy's cheeks were reddened by now, and all he could hear was strangers laughing gaudily.

The blonde picked up an anxious-looking owl that was shaking and placed it on her shoulder whilst she mended his cage.

"Oh stop it, please!" the blonde called out in mock shock from the corner as she opened up the cage to let the owl fly back in. Percy was attempting not to throw himself towards the nearest cliff to preserve the smallest shard of dignity he had left over in his unexciting frame. "I'm _so_ intimidated by this great dragon tamer!"

Percy rolled his eyes, and then whistled loudly. The anxious, barmy-looking owl that was sat on her shoulder was so frightened at the sudden sound that he'd seemed to use her uniform as a lavatory.

She screeched.

 _"PERCY!"_ Molly exclaimed, looking appalled by his behaviour. She leaned forward to his ear, "You don't scare poor little owls like that... she's nearly had a heart attack!"

HIS name was Hermes, and he was Percy's new mate.

Percy's heart fluttered violently in his chest when he brought the pristine cage back home.

The immaculate confine had plenty of space for the owl to rummage round but Percy honestly couldn't wait to get him out of it. He barely tolerated putting Scabbers in his little black box, much preferring to place him in big pockets of his oversized jumpers or button-downs, which he'd often had to tuck into his tight trousers to make it seem like his button-downs were fit to measure. They were indeed fit to measure—for someone that was five stone heavier than Percy was.

Percy sighed in excitement when he'd placed the cage down and started to stroke the owl's soft feathers.

A part of him felt remorseful for pushing old Scabbers aside for this new pet, but Hermes was a gift.

Percy pulled Hermes out of his cage. He'd pulled out a small bag of owl treats he'd _Reducio_ -ed to keep at his pocket. He performed an enlargement charm. The treats were so heavy that they nearly fell off Percy's weak hands. A flush flittered past his cheeks, as he struggled with opening the bag for a few moments. Giving up, Percy decided to call out a severing charm to open that- _that contraption!_

 _Merlin, these things smell almost as bad as a troll_, Percy decided, scrunching his nose up. _Or Fred and George_.

Hermes moved closer to the thing of owl treats, and hooted.

After Percy decided that he'd rather be flung face-first into a roaring fire than hold one of those nasty little buggers, Percy used a levitating charm to place a little treat by the window. Hermes immediately gobbled it up before flapping his wings around in contentment.

Percy laughed in his own happiness, forgetting everything wrong that happened during that summer in less than a few minutes... well, that _was_ until he remembered he told his mum he had a scarred knob.

PERCY ran his hand through his sweaty vibrant red curls. Well, the British heat was going to turn him into a poor constructed puddle in King's Cross station. He was given the task of looking after the twins—and Ron, whom would rather be looked over by a manky sock. Thus far, Percy had tugged at the clothes that Ron was wearing underneath, taken off a smear of hazelnut spread from his mouth, and took a cleaning charm to his shoes, which by Percy's standards were vile and rank. The twins snickered and Ron was just about ready to shed his human form and turn into a prefect-thirsty dragon.

His family went on to help some plonker that believed it odd not to have a ¾ in King's Cross.

Percy paid little attention to anything until he had to board the Hogwarts Express. Before he could thoroughly check the twins and Ron for possession of any hazardous substances, they seemed to run off and find themselves compartments.

Percy sighed to himself and thought he best start checking after these children to make sure that all of them were, in fact, intact and not causing much mischief and mayhem.

Peering into each and every compartment, a fifteen-year-old Percy found himself settle down when he realised that everything was in order. Nobody was frolicking about, causing havoc and distress.

The twins seemed to be invested in a conversation with Lee Jordan, plotting senselessly about which bloke they were going to torture at the start of this brimming year. Percy eavesdropped on their conversation from a distance to collect the necessary information he needed to tell them to stop torturing the student population. Oh, Percy would've broken up the conversation and warned them not to do anything too doltish, he really would've— _but_ he wouldn't mind the year starting off with that wanker Pucey gallivanting about the Great Hall with an animated stuffed platypus running up and down his underpants... which just happened to be a pair of orange knickers (or so it would be when the twins were done with him).

During his round, Percy caught sight of Ron sitting beside that nameless black-haired plonker of a child that looked completely and utterly lost now, similarly to how he did on the King's Cross station. No doubt Ron's new friend was a muggleborn by the looks of things... at least _that_ was Percy thought until he caught sight of that bloody lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

 _Congratulations, Percival, you thought The Boy Who Lived was 'a nameless black-haired plonker'_.

It wasn't surprising that Ronald happened to befriend the wizarding world's hero in less than an hour. They were sharing enough sucrose-strewn sweeties to send a diabetic into a very acidotic condition. Percy patted his robe pocket, which was emptier than Roger Davies' big fat head. At least he didn't have to feel guilty about not having enough money to give to Ron to buy anything to eat on their way down to Hogwarts now, did he? Though now he was worried that his brother would pull his poor mate into a carbohydrate coma before they'd even gotten to Hogwarts. What would he tell his mum _then_? Ron fed Harry Potter to death with pumpkin pasties and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans? As if the Weasley's didn't have enough reputation as it was without them making the Boy Who Lived's blood thicker than cauldron cake batter!

Just as he was getting back to the Prefect compartment, he bumped into five-foot-ten weedy yet sinewy Oliver Wood. He was in Quidditch uniform for some reason.

" _Head out of the clouds, Wood_ ," Percy warned, only for Oliver to glower at him. "Off with the Quidditch robes. You are aware that you're supposed to be clothed in your normal school attire by the time we reach Hogwarts, so I suggest you do a quick swap of your clothing choices to avoid me having to dock points from Gryffindor _before_ the school year's even started. Is that understood?"

Oliver's glare disappeared as he shrunk down and nodded his head. "Fine."

A sound of inharmonious laughter erupted through the train and Percy didn't have to turn around to know who the miscreants in question were.

"Oi, Wonder Weasel," _cheers_ , _Bletchley_. In early mornings, Percy especially enjoyed being reminded that he was nothing more than his own genitalia according to these three tossers sat beside each other. Percy turned to have a look over at Miles Bletchley, a six-foot-two, blocky fellow whose shaggy, long blonde hair was shining so bright in the lit compartment that it reflected off Percy's horn-rimmed glasses. "How's your summer been? Chased around a few crummy old rats to adopt as mates, have ya?"

Percy offered a confident, self-assured smile.

"It was fine. Thank you for asking; Bletchley," Percy replied in a calm and collected tone of voice. He followed this by, "Unfortunately, I've not been able to find any rats this summer... though I suspect it's because they're all taken refuge in your mum's eatery—or _so_ the reports say at the very least."

Miles seemed to keep the beaming smile glued on his face, but Percy knew that the comment unnerved him.

As for Percy, he'd heard so much worse (unfortunately, usually from his own family) than he wasn't even slightly wound up about Miles' pathetic attempt at unnerving him.

"You think you're so ruddy brilliant," Terence seemed to string himself along the conversation. He had grown to be exceedingly tall—at somewhere around six foot five, with his somewhere in between thin and average body type. "Seeing as you're a cripple, I'd advise you to watch your step."

"Got that out of the back of a _Pixie Puffs_ box, did you?" Percy crossed his arms. "Ten points from Slytherin."

 _"That isn't fair!"_ Adrian shot up from where he was sitting. Percy had no idea why he'd done that, considering he wasn't intimidating – what with being the same height as Percy and weighing as much as a doxy egg. " _GEMMA!_ Prissy took ten points from us for no reason! _We aren't even in the bloody castle yet!_ "

 _Prissy_. Percy rolled his eyes. It seemed to be _everyone's_ favourite nickname for him these days!

"Ten additional points from Slytherin," Gemma said automatically, poking her head from the prefect compartment, curly brown hair flying in all directions. "I'm not deaf, you know. We can hear you four quarrelling from here! I know Quidditch commentators that are quieter than you lot!"

Wood stayed around, obviously enjoying the show before him as the train moved, when he should've been sat down in his compartment ages ago.

"But _Gemma_!" Terence called out, standing up from where he sat down. "The only reason you're being so callous is because last year, you shagged the weasel!"

Gemma and Percy's faces turned intensely red by this point.

Unfortunately, Percy wasn't very good at denying things that _had_ actually happened. Terence was actually spot on with that comment, and he found himself storming off. He took a look back at Wood, who looked mildly amused as he finally decided to plonk that arse down a compartment. That smile faded, as he pulled out his Gryffindor uniform and disappeared down to have a change.

Oliver Wood was a very unforeseen and perplexing individual, Percy concluded.

Despite now being captain of the Quidditch team, Oliver Wood wasn't very popular or lovable. Beyond his friendliness with the Quidditch team, everyone really just thought of him as a Quidditch-addled maniac... mostly because he really _was_ a Quidditch-addled maniac. With the hushed rumours reaching Slytherin dorms, he'd heard that he was partial to having his teammates wake up at around five in the morning for an amiable start of the day and it was cited that Wood was found gadding about the Quidditch fields at around two or three in the morning.

Smiling smugly to himself, Percy decided to go over the compartments one more time to make sure everyone else was seated. The twins seemed to hide a silly-looking ancient map that looked like something out of Percy's Ancient Runes class the minute they saw Percy walk towards them. The twins must equate the fact that Percy's dependency on glasses meant that he was partially _blind_ , which he was _not_.

He went back to sit with the rest of the prefects. Gemma wouldn't even look him in the eye.

Percy stared at the window. A bunch of Slytherins were chattering about what he did with Gemma in Hogsmeade last year. He had a scarred knob... and it just dawned on him that he hadn't read a single thing of his books this summer! What a start to the year this was turning out to be!


	34. Chapter 34

_i am nearly always working on this story and nearly always forget to update. very ironic!_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Four

* * *

 _Ares_. Terence scratched his thin quill over at the small thing of parchment paper as he wrote the name.

 _Aye, you're clearly not obsessed with the Weasel then, are you?_ His internal voice sounded a lot like that tosser Bletchley, as much as he hated him. _You trying not to think about that tosser is like Roger Davies passing by a female without giving her bottom a whack and my mum serving a fried slice that isn't sent to St Mungo's for investigation of a Salmonella outbreak! _

He watched the words fade into the ink, feeling his stomach reel—and it wasn't because he had to spend all of yesterday night consoling that bloody plonker Adrian Pucey that nobody _really_ thought that he wore pumpkin-coloured underpants.

After all, everyone knew that even if he did wear knickers, it would be black.

This did little to comfort Adrian for some _bizarre_ reason.

Not to mention that Adrian had a go at Terence, ranting on about how the twins must've added a concealment charm of some kind to prevent his knob from poking out of the underpants. This was all fine _and dandy_ (or in Terence's case— _brandy_ considering that was the only thing that stopped him from committing an honour killing) until Adrian started to undo his pants with a haste to try and verify his aforementioned statements... Terence grimaced and told Adrian that if he _dared_ take off his underpants then Terence would make sure that by the time that he was done with him, he wouldn't have a knob.

Terence surveyed the class and noticed Percy sitting in the front of the class, horn-rimmed glasses just about to slide off his face as he attentively scribbled about. He barely had time to double-dip his quill in the ink with the way that he was writing. Bloody tosser.

The Miles voice in his head was snorting. _I understand I mean. If I fancied blokes, I'd definitely want the one that looks he's suffering from a long-term case of the dragon pox._

 _Shut up, you bellend_. Terence wrote _Ares_ again, watching the words fade away.

A tight knot formed into his soft stomach whenever Terence mulled over that short time period where he nicknamed Percy as Ares. He had meant it as a joke, but he felt like there was something more than met the eye. It came as a silent thought in the middle of a long summer night in July and it hadn't left him since. When he found himself completely blank of all other thoughts, his mind always flicked back to that small nickname that he'd given that old twat. There was something _more_. He knew it with every fibre of his being that _there was something more_.

 _Aye, you're madly in love with a bloke that has less arse than a Runespoor and he still manages to have a wand shoved up there!_ Miles jeered, which made Terence sigh deeply under his breath. Even if Terence was inclined in that direction, he thought he could do better than the bloke that once spent three-quarters of the summer holidays trying to look for Kenmare Kestrel quills because he'd heard a bloke shouting about how _"the Kenmare Kestrels are a right sort! Shame they're all as gay as pink ink!"_ Apparently, it took four Ravenclaws, seven Hufflepuffs, three Gryffindors, half of Slytherin, two ancient textbooks and Minerva McGonagall to tell him that 'gay as pink ink' didn't refer to illuminating ink at all.

Terence poked his quill again, thinking back to that nickname. He knew that there was something that he was missing. He knew that there was something related to Greek Gods, and he was sure that it was just as innocuous as that right tart that asked him out for a date at Hogsmeade (of course, he'd agreed to _that_ but that wasn't the point he was trying to illustrate).

He had to find out what _it_ was. It would tear Terence apart not to know.

AFTER a quick snooze in the History of Magic, he had double Potions.

Normally, Terence would be eager to have a chance to show off his perfect potion-making skills ( _I know Malfoy's that are more modest than you are_ , his Miles-like inner voice told him) but fuelled by hunger, all he could think about was chomping down on a dozen or so bacon butties. Funny thing that yesterday he'd eaten so bloody much at the feast that he thought there was no way that he'd arise that morning feeling hunger, but he was. In fact, he was hungrier than usual and Orphan Wood's tousled brown hair was looking surprisingly chocolate-y this afternoon. He rather fancied scoffing down a whole nundu with how famished he was.

As for Potions, he was late as ever. Snape was as ecstatic as always, as he drawled on about the O.W.L's and more than less subtly mentioned how they were all doomed to fail in their life. Uplifting stuff that was.

It was a funny trick though—whenever the word O.W.L was mentioned, the Weasel stiffened up and his eyes became as big as dinner plates. Terence felt like a bloke that was about to receive the Kiss would look less stressed and less likely to collapse from lack of blood flow to the brain. As Snape and Percy competed for who could look more like death personified, Terence wondered how many nails and how much coffee Percy Weasley would dawn down before he took the first of those bloody exams.

He smirked as he filed away his thoughts of dumping Sleeping Draught into Prissy's coffee.

Terence was pulled out of his thought process when a black-haired bloke walked inside the room. Terence felt like the bloke couldn't be more than five-foot-nine. Definitely taller than half the class, but shorter than the other half. It didn't help that his off-black robes were longer and bigger than he was. His Slytherin uniform underneath looked like it hadn't had been ironed out since the first wizarding war and his nearly-fallen apart grey loafers made Terence wonder if he'd decided to throw his loafers off a large building several times then whack it over a misbehaved house elf until it started to lose molecular integrity.

 _Interesting look that bloke has,_ his Miles-like voice noted before he added on. _His eyes are wider than a Puffskein and if his knees were are any sharper; Filch would add them to his List of Banned Objects._

Snape looked like he was about to send raging walls of fire towards the bloke. He was stupid enough to walk up towards Snape with some kind of parchment paper in his hand.

The Miles voice continued his ravishing commentary. _And if his head was any thicker, he'd pass as an extended copy of The Monster Book of Monsters. _

The potions master practically tore it from his hands and took a quick read of it.

"Detention, Flint," Snape bellowed out callously. "Sit with Higgs. He's looking too full of himself."

Terence immediately sat up straight as Marcus walked towards him and sat down beside him. Marcus opened up his book and was smoothing out a few wrinkled pages. Even more eerie was how _calm_ Marcus looked. Terence didn't recognise him because not he was always used to Marcus being bigger and taller than his little eleven-year-old self, he wasn't used to seeing Marcus look so... content.

 _He's probably shagged a gorgeous bird down in Durmstrang_ , Terence concluded.

 _Maybe_ , Terence's spiteful inner voice replied by sardonically. _If she was a veela on Amortentia._

As Snape insisted that they _attempt_ to brew the Draught of Peace, Terence slowly went about with crafting the potion. He'd a knack for potions that very few had. He had no doubt that he would perfect this potion and that the class would go by quickly—which it had to because he was one second away from scoffing a thing of bloody powdered moonstone at this rate.

He looked over at Marcus. He had his cauldron out and was looking back at the crumbled sheets.

The truth was Terence didn't even know if Marcus _could_ read or write. As vindictive as that statement was, it was supported by the fact that eleven-year-old Marcus kept on dragging his _Charms_ books to his History of Magic classes, was barely able to spell his own name correctly and thought that Ice Mice was actually written as _Mice Lice_ (which put Terence off a box of those things for a long while).

Terence was careful with his potion making, but couldn't help but look over at Marcus every now and then to make sure that he wasn't going to kill the both of them or suddenly fall asleep _into his cauldron_ like he had multiple times before.

It didn't take more than five minutes until someone's cauldron exploded, or some smoke to fill the classroom. Snape was most displeased, and Terence tried to eschew the feeling of apprehension that came with Ole Greasy looking over their heads.

Terence looked over at Marcus, whom was had his nose stuck in his book and seemed to be stirring in his cauldron... _almost_ like he knew exactly what he was doing. This feeling was so foreign that Terence's heart started to beat so loudly he could barely hear the explosion beside him, as sparks of neon pink suddenly popped out of a cauldron from the lass beside him. Thanks to Terence's skilful approach to situations and his ever-so-brilliant tendencies to not act like a complete knob during such situations, he avoided falling into a deep sleep never to be woken up from again... which was good news he supposed.

Terence felt relief soak his bones when the class was dismissed.

They had to go put their phials up for marking. There were so many colours on Snape's desk that they could use the bottles as references for Twilfitt and Tatting's new _Colourful, Classy and Charismatic_ robe collection.

His heart did a double turn when he noticed Marcus produce his phial, which had a silver sheen to it.

No. Terence decided. Marcus brewed a potion _properly_ the first time? Merlin, him brewing a potion at all? _The Draught of Peace?_ He looked around for Percy Weasley, whom he suspected would be entirely nude, suddenly dark-haired, doe-eyed with a body sculpted to perfection and shagging Gemma Farley. No such thing thankfully! Percy was standing beside Snape's desk, looking like someone stole his liquorice wands.

"Detention for cheating, Flint," Snape suddenly said in a monotonous voice.

"But _I_ didn't cheat, professor," Marcus mumbled in an annoyed voice, but toned down from what Terence was used to when Marcus was frustrated, i.e. a transformation from a half-troll to a Chinese Fireball.

Snape stared at Marcus as if he was telling a very bad joke. "You're testing my patience."

"I'll do it again, professor," he sounded like he was threatening Snape.

Snape's eyes twitched. "So you will," he said in a droning tone. "During your _detentions_."

As their professor went on about when Marcus was supposed to report to these detentions, Terence stared at the perfectly constructed phial that Marcus had put on the desk. Was it terrible for him to assume that Marcus _did_ cheat? He would've stuck up for Marcus if he believed otherwise. Terence didn't actually think that Marcus knew how to do it. This was the bloke that thought that Newt Scamander was a potion ingredient and found a way to cheat even when playing _rock cake, parchment paper, severing charm_.

Fuming, Marcus stormed out of the dungeons and Terence trailed after him. Marcus seemed to have blocked out the whole world, with how he was staring down at his feet like he was the only being that existed in Hogwarts. It wasn't long before Adrian and Miles blocked off an unsuspecting Marcus' path.

It was so strange to see Marcus being shorter than the rest of his mates.

It was so strange looking down at Marcus and seeing those stony grey eyes stare back up at him. His shinier-than-Prissy's-prefect-badge black hair unkempt. Terence noticed how Marcus' robes were collecting dust.

"Hi, mate," Terence said in a soft voice. "We're going to the Great Hall. Want to join us?"

Marcus nodded his head and Terence felt an intense need to stay close to Marcus, as if any minute now, the Earth would open him up and swallow him whole.

His mind flickered back to the Potions class but he pushed that aside.

A vibrant host of unwanted memories seemed to fill Terence's mind, as he recalled being a complete plonker and letting Marcus drink that tea that made him tear his tooth away. The gap between his rather large and mismatched teeth was _still_ there with how Marcus' mouth was parted. Marcus' Slytherin tie was terribly made and his shirt was so haphazardly buttoned that a few had already popped out. It seemed like Marcus had slept in his uniform (likely) or been attacked by a vicious tornado (also just as likely).

"Where's the Weasel?" Marcus suddenly asked, tucking his book under his arm.

Terence immediately stiffened at Marcus' mention of the redhead. "We ain't mates with that sodding bastard anymore. In fact, we haven't been since you've left."

Marcus raised an eyebrow and then snorted, "Stupid reason then, is it?"

Terence felt a bit stunned. He wasn't used to Marcus sounding as _quiet_ as this. The comments were supposed to be acerbic and cutting but failed. He sounded like he was making a poor jibe that wouldn't even offend Penelope Clearwater. Terence was used to Marcus spitting them out in fury so this was definitely a difference. He kept on staring back at his mate as if he'd just _Incendio_ himself at any point in time.

"Not a stupid reason," Terence insisted but now that Marcus put it in that way, it _did_ seem like a stupid reason. "We shouldn't have let the blood traitor in our circle in the first place."

"In our _circle_?" Marcus snorted again. He seemed rather amused by this. "We ain't holding hands and ringing round the Rosies here, Higgs."

Now that classes were _finally_ over, Adrian, Miles and Terence were rubbing sleep out of their watery eyes. Marcus looked well rested to say the least, despite looking like he'd been eaten, chewed and spat out. Adrian's hair was a hazard against humanity and Miles looked like he was suffering from locked-in syndrome. Terence clung onto his parchment papers, quills sticking out of the pockets of his robes as he walked down the corridor with his mates. Terence was absolutely famished, and he bet than nearly everyone else hadn't woken up early enough to have a spot of breakfast before being flung into a room with that boring old sodding ghost at around eight in the morning; followed by a rather _refreshing_ lesson with euphoric Ole Greasy. The only reason why Binns was teaching the class was because they couldn't find a living twat that was stupid enough to do it and the only reason they had Snape's classes after that was to make sure that all fifth year students lost their will to live before they even attempted to take their bleeding O.W.L's.

Sitting in the Great Hall, Terence started to pile his jacket potato with cheese, salad and baked beans. As he chewed, his eyes flicked back to Marcus, whom was nursing a milky cup of tea. When he was done with the first, he'd immediately gone and made himself another one.

Adrian and Miles staring at Marcus, hawk-eyed, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

Marcus pulled his hand out and gestured for Percy to come and sit with them.

Percy stood there, confused for a few minutes, as Marcus kept on gesturing for him to accompany them. The black-haired Slytherin was starting to look more than mildly irritated by then.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Marcus sounded out, losing patience. "Sit down before I shove you down."

Terence immediately stiffened as Percy wedged himself in between Marcus and Terence. He glanced back at his mates whom just shrugged their shoulders and returned to their plates. Their plates were piled high with potatoes, roasted gammon and vegetables.

 _Yes_ , this bothered them immensely. _No_ , they could not sound this out to Marcus.

He didn't think any of his mates would be able to deny Marcus anything, and Terence didn't even know if it was a bad thing or not. It had to mean something awful. Terence would never see Marcus as he used to before. He would now always just be a victim of abuse. He didn't think he could waver away the feelings that at some point, Marcus was simply going to disappear into fine dust; almost like his body couldn't go on anymore. He couldn't see that five-foot-eleven ten year old that used to cheat on every bloody game they did, or the one that tried to charm Adrian's chocolate frogs to change his hair colour and appearance just to frustrate him. Terence regretted every time that he did reject Marcus' offers, or tell him that no, he did not want to go down to the Gryffindor dorms and try to wreck hell on them. Terence felt like no matter how blocky, tall or confident Marcus would get, they would always remember how small, skinny and helpless he had been. It didn't help how quiet he sounded. He looked content... but was he? Terence didn't think he could accept the fact that Marcus was _fine_. He'd _always_ be waiting for something to suddenly _Confringo_. He didn't think anyone could see Marcus as anything but what he suffered from.

"Durmstrang was the best thing that ever happened to me," Marcus mumbled, as he put his tea down for a second just to put a few things of roast potatoes on his plate, followed by a few pieces of steamed broccoli. "I only transferred back to warn this tosser about his impending doom, but he doesn't believe me."

 _"Impending doom?"_ Percy echoed with an irritated expression, as he picked up a buttered bread roll. He ate half of it in five seconds. Even perfect prefect Percy didn't get up in time for breakfast this morning it seemed. "If you're referring to the premonition, then I'd like to announce that it was more like bad fiction! And I cannot believe that you're bringing _them_ into this."

"Marcus, are you alright? You're starting to sound like you've taken one too many pain potions," Adrian reached over to place a cold hand on Marcus'. The part-troll immediately pushed his mate's hand away.

Marcus nodded his head. "Shut up, you twat," he warned, cutting his roast potatoes into two halves.

"My father is a Seer," the part-troll mumbled, taking a mouthful of roast potato and not bothering to swallow before he spoke (this action made Percy visibly cringe). "He'd not seen much I'd give you that but he predicted when one of his mates would die—right up to the second. He predicted Lestrange escaping the ward. He predicted that he'd turn into a right arse. Mum didn't believe it at the time..."

Marcus swallowed and took a sip of his tea before continuing, "I've turned into the hospital and seen him this summer..." this made Terence's heart race. As dumb as Marcus could be at times, he didn't like to think that his mate fell for any explanation that bastard of a man could give him. Marcus' attempt to excuse this man was pitiful at best. "He told the Weasel and I that was under the Imperius by Ares."

Miles looked stunned. "Marcus, mate... the lack of food must've killed off some of your brain cells."

"Are you seriously trying to tell us that your bastard of a father was under the Imperius... by a _Greek God?_ " Adrian reiterated incredulously; laughing. "Was he, too, under the Cruciatus by the Loch Ness Monster?"

"Shut up, you arseholes," Marcus sounded out, fuming as he stabbed a potato. "I'm not as bloody dense as you think I am. You're worse than my mum about this! Give me the benefit of the doubt for Salazar's sake."

He paused and then added on, "It wasn't _your_ face that he pounded in _so stop bloody acting like it_."

"Last time we let you dictate a situation involving him, you were quite happy about letting the bastard pound your skull out," Miles reminded him. "Forgive me if I'm concerned."

"You don't _sound_ concerned," Marcus retorted challengingly.

Miles busied his hands by stuffing a buttered bread roll with turkey and lettuce, looking like he was close to inflicting physical harm on Marcus (which was ironic to say the least). "Every time you've opened your mouth, Marc, you've tried to give excuses for why he's pounding your head in. I don't understand why you're defending that git but anymore of this bollocks and I'll be—"

 _"Giving me a good whack?"_ Marcus spat out. _"Knocking some sense into me?"_

Everything stood in a stand-still silence after that comment. Terence's heart flipped a little bit because on one hand, he thought that Marcus really did lose his senses from surviving on little else but tea for most of his life and on the other hand, he felt at fault for his complete disbelief towards anything that had come out of Marcus' mouth today— _but how could he believe Marcus?_ Miles _was_ right. Every time that Marcus brought up his own father was to defend the man for why it wasn't that bad that he'd turned Marcus into his poor form of anger management. How was this any different? Yes, Terence was aware that he had some Ares-related suspicions that he'd kept to himself but he'd taken Marcus' mentioning as a sheer coincidence. Besides, _Imperio_ -ed by a Greek God? Even if that _was_ true, didn't Greek Gods have anything better to do?

"Look, mate, don't you see how _ridiculous_ you're being?" Miles asked in a soothing voice as he took a bite of his sandwich. "A _Greek God?_ Really, Marc?"

Marcus continued to chew the few bits of broccoli he had on his plate. "It's true."

 _"It's true!"_ Adrian immediately called out in surprise. "It's not _the least bit_ true! He's trying to con you is all and you were daft enough to fall for it! I'm sorry, Marcus but this is preposterous."

Percy was rubbing his temple. "See, Marcus? These people loathe me and they _still_ agree with me!"

Marcus kept his mouth clenched tight. "And you?" he looked over at Terence with an irritated look on his face. "Want to tell me how _daft_ I'm being?"

Terence simply stiffened.

Marcus' irritation melted away and he gave a sharp nod of his head.

"I've visited him again, my father and he told me that this plonker over here," he had a glance over at an irritated Percy that was in complete disbelief, "He's being targeted by Ares. He isn't sure how or why but father reckons he's going to end up in the bloody ward. He thinks that Ares wants to start a war and that he wants to ascend to Olympus I've heard. Zeus, he's... he's banished him. Called him the most hated son he'd had. And he wants to use the Weasel as a weapon."

"For Helga's sake, Marcus..." Percy exclaimed. "I hope you don't add onto this— _this foolishness!_ "

"I'm not daft," Marcus took his plate and cup and disappeared. "You'll see."

"Too late for that," Miles noted, as he watched Snape violently threaten Marcus with another detention after Marcus Flint had hexed Oliver Wood.


	35. Chapter 35

_**warnings: isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**... that 'God know what else i decide to put in last minute' includes **suicidal ideation (possibly an attempt may it be successful or not later on) and mentions/possible illustrations of self-harm.**_

 _ **adding onto the warnings (you should've expected an add on): mentions of sexual harassment/assault. **_

_i really wanted to lighten up the next subsequent chapters, but i'm finding such a difficulty in it. i've been doing it for a week, but it's just... not coming as easily as i hoped that it would. i just thought that maybe, **let's just keep the plot rolling. depressing as it is**._

 _i will attempt to go back to updating this fanfic on Thursday or Friday. it's Saturday right now, but hopefully expect a chapter on Thursday/Friday next week!_

 _ **responses to any inquiries** :_

 _ **Maeve-Juniper** : oh, this is going to be a very messy and long comment reply, but firstly, i'd love to say that i appreciate your chapter-by-chapter commenting. i was just about to die of glee when i've checked my inbox! it's made my day and what thorough comments you've left me! aye, i attempt with my grammar and spelling, and sometimes, it works out well and other times, it does not. aye, the trigger warnings... i'd have to say i don't think i have it in me to fully fledge myself into a light hearted fanfiction unless i write it bits and blots here and there! i do have to say that the 'fondling the chicken' comment wasn't really meant to indicate much, other than Charlie's interesting imagination. Percy's persistence on running away with a leg injury is, indeed, an odd writing choice. it's one of those moments where the fanfic wrote itself, so i'm not sure about how credible it is but i do know that in one hand, it does make sense (Percy's mental fear triumphing over his physical pain/him not understanding how bad his injury was, him believing that it is easy to make it out on his own even at that young age), and at the same time, it doesn't, because children typically do not keep persisting when they are severely hurt and they give up long before they got to Percy's point. it does give a bit of food for thought but it's one of the things that's shaped up this whole story as it is. _

_i think many of my readers believe that Percy is justified in leaving. others do not. i, personally, do not and think that he is being overly dramatic (as Penelope had pointed out), but then again, he is ten years old. to him, a lot of things are very "end of the world." that's why i love putting in the other point of views, as he tend to be a very self-centered character. i had to put in all the other point of views just to everyone else could pick what they really think of the character. each character is supposed to attempt to persuade you so that this piece isn't **too** biased (it will always be biased because it's a Percy fanfic and his point of view is highlighted the most. also, the fact that **i** am biased and i absolutely adore Percy, but i do make him do stupid and exceedingly selfish things that make you want to shake him because he does do that in canon, e.g. Percy sending back Molly's Christmas jumper.) _

_i love how over-the-top i did make Lucius Malfoy. as mentioned before, they're very cartoon-like villains. **"** **methinks he pays too much attention to Arthur at work"** i loved this bit. reading your other comments and you mentioning shaking Percy - i have to say that you are not the only one that thinks like that (i wanted to shake him and i'm writing it!). but really, your comments are brilliant. i've smiled so much whilst reading them, i think i might've just died! thank you._

 _i think Arthur in this particular fanfiction is very "i love my son more than anything, but i have a hard time showing it. i have my own issues (even though i don't believe i do)." his intentions are very pure, but i think the idea behind certain things just get past his head. i must say i did laugh to myself when i realised you thought the **child abuse** warnings were more so towards Percy (they were originally and it was going to be Arthur but... i preferred it this way because i prefer Arthur not to be a complete and utter bastard and i prefer that Percy not get all the angst pointed towards him.) _

_**"** **Miles knows what thestrals look like which means he can probs see them, which means he's seen someone die..."** i think you're the only one that's commented on this. it's true and yes, i have a particular backstory for that. will it ever come to light? God only knows. _

_i also believe that people do, in fact, handle others' situation better than their own. **"** **Also Percy, trying to clean someone's period-bood underwear... just, no, child."** Percy is a  very special child indeed. interestingly enough, i do have answers for the Elijah comment but i'm not exactly sure how to tie it in. i think i've spent all yesterday just thinking about it. yes, Mr Flint's appearance was a bit of a confusing and not properly planned thing - but i relied any confusion on the fact that Caius is a Seer (well, you figure that out later but still). there is a lot of implication, but i tend to let such loose ends to be figured out by the reader rather than me attempting to write a perfectly sound explanation with obvious loopholes. mostly because i'm oblivious to most loopholes.  
_

 _i've written a paragraph and it was deleted. aye, i did notice how Chapter 21 and 27 mentioned menstruation. i genuinely attempted to find other means, but there are so many bodily fluids that could be implicated - and let's just say the alternatives are worse for me to write about. **"**_ _ **Since Percy's decently tall though maybe the guy thinks he's an adult."**_ this actually is what i was going for, especially since Percy has passed off as much older to Audrey as well. the age different used to serve a purpose when the plotline was going in a certain direction. it doesn't now. i do imagine Audrey being older than Percy but maybe by a year or two, certainly not eight. it was actually very weird writing them with this difference, but it seemed to have levelled out right now. your prediction towards Percy's mates ditching him is actually spot on.

 _ **"** **To me, Arthur comes off as really well meaning."** he  is very well meaning, but Percy has his issues with him, and most of this story is written in his point of view, so he comes off less lovingly. i think the obvious contrast and irony is that Molly sees Percy as her favourite and is pinning for his attention and he just doesn't notice it. he is very alike to Arthur but doesn't realise it. and yes, it is a bit odd that Terence felt like something was up with the Ares nickname and shot it down himself even though they were giving him a link. ah! _

_thanks again for leaving such lengthy, beautiful comments!_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Five

* * *

The halls seemed practically abandoned at three in the morning. A sweat-soaked, fuming Oliver Wood wanted to seriously thrash his fist into Marcus Flint's face—and if that tosser was around, he _would_.

 _All day!_ All day, Oliver had to try and get rid of the boils and blemishes Flint hexed him with!

He had a look to his face that reminded him of Loretta's lumpy porridge oats!

He hadn't felt this humiliated since he was eleven.

Almost as if thinking of how angry he was at Marcus made him materialise, he caught sight of the black-haired bastard walking down in ugly black striped pyjamas, holding what looked to be a raggedy old blanket that looked like it just barely survived the first world war intact. Even a mile away, Oliver could smell him—that _distinctive_ part-troll smell (it wasn't ruddy roses either). His hair was absolute chaos. It looked as if doxies were playing round with it all day.

As Marcus passed by Oliver, the Gryffindor grabbed him by his shoulder and then shoved him to the wall.

As an eleven-year-old, he would allow Marcus to do him over, but Oliver hadn't been picked on for ages, and he had this deal with Marcus just so that he would keep it that way! Oliver had an _image_ to maintain now. _Captain of the bloody Quidditch team!_ And as Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he couldn't allow himself to walk around looking like he had dragon pox. How on Earth would he be able to play _Quidditch professionally_ if he had "long term dragon pox sufferer" in his application?

"You bloody bastard!" Oliver wasn't used to being this forceful— _and to Marcus!_ "Why did you hex me for?"

Usually, Oliver was so nervous and scared of Marcus. He had trouble looking at the part-troll and often felt his limbs freeze and his heart pound when his brown eyes locked with Marcus' grey ones.

That seemed to all go away in four days. The four days that they were mates in. All of the fear just...

Just this morning, Marcus was sitting alone on the train, looking outside the window. Whenever he got up to move around every twenty minutes, he tripped over at his trousers. He looked particularly upset and Oliver wanted nothing more than to sit with him so that they could keep on talking about Quidditch. Oliver remembered trying to buy a chocolate frog but having not a Knut to his name. When he got up to have a stretch of his legs, Marcus accidentally-on-purpose bumped into him and shoved a chocolate frog in the pocket of his trousers with such practised expertise. Oliver couldn't stop grinning like a bloody loony the whole train ride. Every time he took a bite out of the frog, he glanced back at Marcus who was pretending that he wasn't doing the exact same thing but Oliver _knew_ that he was.

Now, he felt _none_ of that. Marcus could fall down a rabbit hole for all Oliver cared (and Marcus was bound to, with how he kept tripping with those massive pants of his. He looked like he was suffering from chorea).

Oliver's hands gripped tighter onto Marcus' shoulder. "What was the point of trying to be my mate if—"

Marcus sleepily rubbed his eye. "You're the one that said you wanted everyone to think that we bloody well hated each other! How do you think it'll look like if _I_ didn't hex you? People will start asking questions about it, that's what! _Open your sodding eyes, Wood!_ Do you think that I wanted to hex you?"

Oliver's grip weakened. That _did_ make sense, but it didn't change his disgust towards the situation.

He was angry at Marcus for doing this to him, for humiliating him, for making him feel so small. He was angry that the worst he'd felt in ages was attributed to _his mate_ —at the same time, he had asked for this, so how could he really complain? Oliver was standing at a crossroads.

"I heard you made a perfect phial of the Draught of Peace," Oliver suddenly mentioned in a small voice.

Marcus stiffened but nodded his head.

"How did you do it?" Oliver inquired in a firm voice, cocking his head to one side. He wasn't trying to be rude, but Marcus actually was really stupid. Oliver would genuinely be surprised if he even knew how the word 'Slytherin' was spelled. "You _cheated_ , didn't you? Just like you do with everything."

Marcus shoved him off this time, obviously surprising Oliver.

Oliver thought he had a _hold_ on Marcus, that he was pinning him down and cornering him, but Marcus could've always broken out of that grip. The reason why he didn't shove Oliver back the minute he'd pinned him to the wall made the Gryffindor confused.

"I thought you weren't like everyone else..." Marcus said sombrely, "...that you were different."

"Wake up, Flint! How thick could you be?" Oliver snapped, only for Marcus to gape at him. "We've only been mates for _four days_ and they weren't even all that good! And then you hex me! It took me all day to get rid of those nasty buggers! And they _hurt_."

"You told me to," Marcus said, voice low, placing his hands in his pockets. "You could've hexed me back."

That statement suddenly made Oliver's heart sink down to his chest. He realised that he'd mucked up then. He'd asked Marcus to make them look like enemies, and then he told him off for doing what he told Marcus to do. He didn't want anyone to know that he was befriending a _Slytherin_... and _Flint_ to boot! Oliver knew that this would absolutely trivialise his Quidditch tactics and what about his team? They wouldn't listen to a ruddy word he said (well, even more so than usual!) How would Oliver win the House Cup _if they knew_? But he just didn't know how to explain it to Marcus without sounding like an arsehole.

Oliver looked down at Marcus with a softened expression. "I'm sorry for what I said. It was..."

"It's okay," Marcus said in that same low voice.

"I don't want to hex you," Oliver admitted, and then looked down at his feet.

"I just...I didn't expect you to do it," Oliver tried his best to explain. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I promise next time I won't be so awful to you."

The silence made Oliver's fingers twitch.

Seeing Marcus wasn't saying anything, Oliver continued to try and console him further, "You can hex me again. You're right. People will start to suspect something if you don't and..."

Marcus stared vacantly at the Gryffindor.

"I just... I still want us to be mates," Oliver called out. "I want us to be _best_ mates."

Marcus slowly nodded his head at this, and Oliver smiled weakly.

"Do you know how the Gryffindor commons look like?" Oliver perked up slightly.

He didn't want to make light of the fact that he'd said some pretty rubbish things to Marcus, but he didn't want them to have an awkward chatter about it.

Marcus shook his head. "An Auror's crime scene?"

"No!" Oliver pouted. "Do you want to see for yourself? I could sneak you in. Godric, I think we could even sneak you into _my_ dorm—it's just me! I'm the only Gryffindor in my year, so it could be just us, having a bit of a laugh before bed! And The Fat Lady likes me. She says I'm the only student that gives her portrait a polish sometimes. She'd definitely let you in, just don't make any one of your _brimming_ comments..."

Marcus chuckled at the last bit, and then followed Oliver with his ratty old blanket.

"Do you like Exploding Snap?" Oliver asked, as they continued to walk down the hallway, looking over at Marcus every few seconds. Suddenly, all the things that he wanted to say in the train came rushing back to him in an instant. He was glad that their row wasn't so bad, but he still felt guilty because he wasn't talking about the awful stuff that he'd told Marcus. "Or do you want to raid the kitchen?"

Marcus slowly nodded his head. "I want biscuits."

"Which are your favourite?" Oliver asked, excitement running in his veins. He was going to be staying up all night playing Exploding Snap with Marcus!

Well, _that_ was what Oliver thought would happen but instead, Marcus fell asleep in the middle of their game together and not even having his hairline nearly maimed by a card rose him up from his state of imminent hibernation. Carrying Marcus to the bed at the end of his huge room, he wondered if Marcus ever wore those Gryffindor scarves that Oliver sent him over during the Christmas holidays...

ADRIAN Pucey was having the bloody time of his life. The whole of Hogwarts thought that he wore carroty frilly knickers and played Quidditch to fill a void regarding his _lack of balls_.

The stress of it all had led to Adrian having his first few spots! He even had a few of these little buggers on his bum of all places— _brilliant_ to say the least! A ruddy spotty botty was exactly what he needed to perpetuate his declining self-worth. Adrian felt like the lasses wouldn't go out with him if they were stuck in a dark closet with him, having have bathed in Amortentia before they took a gander at his sorry blotchy arse.

Not to mention that his black hair had enough grease to pound out a hearty British fry-up for the whole of the United Kingdom.

Oh, and everywhere he went, he was tossed knickers that were more colourful than Duncan Ingleebee.

Bletchley attempted to cheer Adrian up by telling him; _at least you can say you've gotten into a girl's knickers now!_ Easy for Bletchley to say, who was riddled with enough zits that he looked like he was closely related to a spotted thick-knee! _And that hair!_ Looked like he'd been exchanging hair tips with Rita Skeeter.

To add onto his tale of woe, his mate, Marcus Flint, was spewing out more bollocks than _The Quibbler_.

Said mate also somehow convinced Miles and Terence that they should _not_ attempt to actually stick an old Tinderblast up Perfect Prefect Prissy's arse when he was asleep... an event that would indeed have perked Adrian up immensely. Instead, he had a bag of raw baby potatoes sat on his desk with a note that said: _thought you slip these in your knickers to make it look like you've got something going on down there **besides** Chlamydia._

Adrian got rid of the note before any of his mates saw it. He could just imagine Terence trying not to burst into laughter as he 'consoled' Adrian: _Chlamydia? Everyone knows you can't get Chlamydia from your hands, mate._

Sat in the library with an open Divination book, Adrian tried to work with his tea cup— _try_ being the key word, as he wasn't exactly allowed to be brewing tea in the library. He couldn't very well do it in his dorm. With his luck, his mates would spike it with so much firewhiskey that he'd probably killed any hopes for anything good in the near future (pun intended). Adrian couldn't go do it in the common room because he was sure that the minute he took his eyes off the thing, a bloke or a lass would enchant miniature sized knickers and have them floating round his tea. This morning, he recalled six red-and-blue polka dotted knickers swimming in circles in his strong brew.

Just as Adrian brought the small white cup to his mouth, it was immediately ripped away from his hands. His surprise dissipated when he noticed that it was Marcus Flint that stole his tea.

"Did you get lost?" Adrian suddenly called out, bewildered. "This is the library."

"Shut up, you twat," Marcus mumbled under his breath, as he sunk down against the small little table that was in front of him. He shifted uncomfortably in his position and Adrian didn't waste any time in sticking a rather large pillow behind the black-haired part-troll so that he'd be more comfortable. A few seconds afterwards, Marcus took the pillow and sent it soaring towards a case of books. It knocked over a few Herbology volumes over a poor unsuspecting first year.

This resulted in them being thrown just outside the library by a furious Madam Pince.

Marcus was laughing gaudily whilst Adrian stared at the library door with annoyance. He was _actually_ trying to study so he could get a higher grade in his Divination class than a D. _Grades_. Something that Adrian forgot was completely irrelevant to Marcus Flint.

"So, what's my future look like, Pucey?" Marcus smirked as he kept on sipping the tea slowly.

"Why don't you ask your father?" Adrian mumbled in annoyance, only for Marcus to glare at him. _"Well?"_

"Hey," a voice from above Adrian sounded out and he looked up from where he was sat down at to notice the five-foot-eleven brick wall standing in front of him that had muscles so defined they looked as if his body was expertly carved by a bloke that had mastered the severing charm. _Oliver Wood_ , with his dazzling sparkly brown eyes that could practically turn anyone he ruddy wanted bent if he tried hard enough. Too bad a ghoul had more spine than Wood did. "Leave him alone."

Adrian thought that he must be dreaming. Oliver Wood was telling him to leave Marcus Flint alone?

"I don't appreciate you talking to my mate like that," Oliver said in a stealthily stern voice.

"What?" Adrian didn't even know he could get so angry so quick. He didn't know why but he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, and his fingers twitch. He turned to Marcus, looking at him like he was less than he'd ever been. "You're mates with a _Gryffindor_? Merlin, Marc, how many bloody Bludgers did you get hit with when you were in Durmstrang?"

Adrian couldn't help but turn to Oliver with a hard look in his face. "Did you know that _your mate_ thought that his father was under the Imperius by a Greek God? Apparently, Caius Flint is a Seer too, and Ares is going to come for Weasel and tear him apart but also simultaneously use him as a weapon."

Oliver looked over at Marcus with an incredulous look on his face. The only thing that Marcus did was slowly nod, but the disbelief etched in Oliver's face disappeared in seconds.

"The stairs try to murder you and a whole war ended cause of a wee little nipper," Oliver mumbled, rubbing his sturdy arm. "Why is _that_ so ruddy unbelievable?"

Adrian only laughed chaotically in response.

"What's so funny?" Marcus raised an eyebrow.

Adrian just shook his head. "Mate, you're not making any sense. Have a biscuit or something before you start telling me that you support the Holyhead Harpies."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Marcus hissed.

"Stop drinking so much ruddy tea and pick up a bloody tart because you're making less sense than Rita fucking Skeeter!" Adrian didn't know what prompted him to say this. He was extremely annoyed and felt like he'd been having the worst time in the world, as if he could say whatever in Merlin's beard he wanted.

"A tart?" Marcus snorted. "No thanks. I wouldn't want to be a tart like _you_ , Pucey."

Adrian blood pressure was steadily rising. "Take that back! _You're_ the tart!"

He could see that people were pooling around them at this point. Adrian caught sight of a very confused Terence and Miles standing there wide-eyed vacantly, with their mouths hanging open (they could've caught glumbumbles in their mouth), whilst bets were being called out on who would throw the first swing ( _as if_ Adrian would ruin his pretty hand! Marcus' cheek was sharp enough to cut diamonds).

" _I'm_ not the one with the frilly orange knickers," Marcus raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "Speaking of orange things, your arse has more filling than a pumpkin pasty."

"At least _I_ have an arse," Adrian spat out. "And at least I don't have the dragon scales look, what with your spine poking out of your back like that. I didn't know trolls mated with Norwegian Ridgebacks."

"At least something wants to mate with me," Marcus hissed.

Adrian was losing his patience and was actually ready to throttle Marcus. He didn't know why he was so angry about tea, but he'd been working _so hard_ and since _six_ in the bloody morning... on a _Saturday_.

"At least I have a future," Adrian snarled, raising an eyebrow.

Marcus chuckled, as if Adrian said a joke. "At least I didn't get caught wanking by my mum."

Adrian's cheeks coloured in. "At least my mum notices me."

"At least _I_ can fight," Marcus' eyes were looking harder at the moment.

"Aye, you can fight alright! Except when it involves your father socking you," Adrian didn't even realise _what_ he said until he said it, and then he immediately regretted it.

Marcus' face paled significantly, and then he turned redder than Rodolph's nose. He tossed cold tea all over Adrian's pants. Adrian jolted up almost immediately, looking over at the splotch on his school trousers. Like the knickers jokes weren't bad enough without looking like he'd wet himself.

Just before Adrian got get his wand to clean up the splotch, Marcus grabbed it and snapped it.

 _Marcus broke his wand_.

Adrian felt all the blood rushing to his head. A rage encompassed him like no other.

He grabbed Marcus by his elbow, and shoved him to the wall before he slammed his fist into Marcus' face so hard that even Adrian's fist throbbed with the impact.

Marcus grabbed Adrian by his shoulders, gripping tightly and then they somehow ended up rolling around the floor. Adrian shoved his hand into Marcus' drier-than-an-old-lady's-fanny hair, and Marcus grabbed Adrian's long pale arm and bit it hard enough to draw blood.

 _"That's enough now!"_ Gemma Farley suddenly weeded through the crowd. "Pucey, Flint... _DETENTION!"_

Needless to say, Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey were no longer mates. _Marcus can't be mates with Terence or Miles anymore either because they're going to back my pumpkin pasty arse_ , thought Adrian with a smirk on his face. At the end of the day, he'll have mates and Marcus will have... well, nothing (Oliver Wood didn't count).

"WHAT is the meaning of this?" an irritated Snape called out hotly. His eyebrows were furrowed in discontentment and his arms were crossed over his chest. "I've simply run out of hours in the day for you to spend detention in, Flint, and Mr Pucey, wipe that look off your face, or it'll end up in a permanent scowl."

 _Says the bloke who's face really is set in a permanent scowl_ , Percy thought to himself as he watched Marcus smirk and Adrian's face colour in deeply. He straightened himself up, because the last thing Percy wanted when he went on to fulfilling his potential as a responsible adult was a curved spine. Successful people did _not_ have curved spines. To add on, Percy could just about imagine the twins _"misplacing"_ his back brace and charming it to remind him how much of a git he was. This notion was based on the fact that currently, Percy had to deal with the fact that his Prefect badge now said _Pinhead_.

"Mr Weasley, would you care to enlighten us?" Snape drawled on.

Percy shook his head. "Honestly, professor, I wasn't there."

"We had a row. It got bad," Adrian suddenly confessed, knowing that sooner or later, Snape would find out anyway. He rubbed his arm and then bit down his lower lip. "That little bugger snapped my wand so I pounded that smug face in!"

Marcus didn't appreciate being called 'little bugger'. Percy could tell why. Adrian made it out as if Marcus was some snotty-nosed first year trying to play with his older brother. "That sodding git mentioned my father in front of the whole ruddy school! He told everyone that he used to sock me! You're lucky I _only_ broke—"

"Enough of this!" Snape exclaimed. "Report to me after dinner for detention. Flint, you report earlier."

They both reluctantly nodded their heads and gave each other long, piercing stares.

"I have to say, professor," Percy suddenly perked up, his cheeks already starting to redden. "I, too, might... _um_... need a detention of some sorts as it seems that Adrian Pucey wasn't the only one this afternoon that might have socked someone in the face."

"Might have?" Snape echoed with a sharp look towards Percy. "Weasley, what did you do _exactly_?"

"Well, in my defence, sir, the blow was me being lenient," Percy offered a sheepish grin in response. "I really wanted to kill him and bury him in the Great Lake instead, but I suppose that if I did _that_ , then getting a respectable job a-after school would be a trifle more difficult than I anticipated."

Snape cocked his head. "Was it by any chance Mr Davies? Because typically, when a Slytherin puts another student _in the infirmary_ , I am notified of it."

"He did not need to go to the infirmary. It was a _soft blow_ ," Percy's cheeks only darkened. "He tried to pressurise Penelope, and I happened to catch them in an abandoned classroom whilst I was having a quick walk round the castle. She kept on refusing... er, more intimate behaviour than a snog, and he kept on attempting to touch her. Thus, I thought that the only logical thing for me to do was intervene."

"A _soft blow?"_ Snape reiterated. "Pomfrey is considering sending him to St Mungo's because he's suspected to have a major concussion."

Percy's face remained still. "That's impossible, professor. You need a brain in order to have a concussion."


	36. Chapter 36

_as promised! updating back on the Thursday/Friday schedule!_

 _i read the particular Harry Potter chapter for this. **this fic is an AU** , so this **could** work. it definitely wouldn't if it wasn't an AU because Harry, Ron and Hermione were caught by McGonagall and Snape just about immediately after the troll incident. this relies on the fact that they didn't. i honestly wasn't going to post this chapter at all. there are simply too many ways that i would regret it, but i went along with it anyway after consulting a friend. **it does lighten things up a bit, which is what i wanted to do all along.** go into this chapter with very low expectations, because i don't know if i hate it or love it._

 _i am **attempting** to bring in more Percy/Ron or Percy/Harry interaction **at least** for the following chapter, but there's such an likelihood that i will make either or both of them too OOC for my liking. i will see how it goes. **edit** : i did, be prepared for an awful 900-word Ron, Percy and Harry scene._

 ** _replies to any inquiries:_**

 _ **Maeve-Juniper** : i've already said it but i'll say it again. i was reading this with a bright grin plastered on my face. i mentioned Elijah in one chapter. described in one sentence, and probably never to be expressed again. ironically, this was in one of my earlier drafts where i was going into a completely different route with Percy where the Elijah line was a major part for the story. the scene in the owlery was supposed to go by completely differently but there were too many loopholes that i couldn't explain for me to have used that plotlines (just to mention: Percy was supposed to be able to have a particular 'connection' with animals, which explained the glumbumbles and him hearing the creatures in the lake, as well as later on when the owls stop speaking when he walks in, as well as his intense love for Scabbers...). of course, i didn't go with this plotline. now, the Elijah scene is just there to showcase that some serious mojo is happening in this fanfic. as for Terence, he is a very interesting character. i'm writing a chapter where he has a long point of view in it right now and i have no idea whether to hate him or to love him. i had to come up for a post-war backstory for him and one just kept on nudging at me until i took it. funnily enough, i've never seen Davies as a womaniser either, but somehow, this is how he ended up in this fanfic. i'm sure i'll use this particular version of him again in other fiction. though i won't be too fussed if i read a more dolled up version of him in another fanfiction because this is not how i 'really' see him. it's just... odd, isn't it? and feel free to write long reviews! ;)_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising** : i have to say Percy punching Davies is a high point in this fanfic for me, but writing Adrian and Marcus' fight was so much easier! it's so nice to hear from you, love. hope you've a lovely day xxx_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Six

* * *

 _You should start believing your sad little friend. He's telling the truth about me_ was written on a script of parchment paper that couldn't have been bigger than a chocolate frog collecting card—or Nicholas and Margery's dusty, tattered wedding invitation. _You wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, would you?_

Percy flipped the paper over and there, written in black handwriting, pretentious as ever: _Ares_.

That was _one_ way to wake up on a Monday morning. As Percy let out a sigh, he picked up a thing of parchment paper from his desk, scrunched up his nose and then wrote: _prove it to me_.

He didn't have time to play games with whoever actually wrote the ruddy thing. Adrian? Terence? Miles?

Percy hung the note round Hermes' leg and then went on to change from his pyjamas into his school robes. He'd not left his bed throughout the whole weekend, preferring instead to curl up in foetal position and lament over his terrible childhood and the loss of any hope he had for a brighter future. He felt like he might as well be an Inferi. He didn't have any _life_ to him, just the terrible projection of _something_ living. He'd seen candy flog about with more enthusiasm than he did.

Percy opened his mum's parcel and consumed the whole of a sticky toffee cake. It was repulsive, out-of-control and he felt like he'd put on three stones in less than the thirty minutes it took him to eat it.

As he was attempting _not_ to explode, Percy felt a nudge on his shoulder and saw Hermes standing there.

It had been less than an hour, which did confirm to Percy that whoever had written this note had to be in the castle. Percy picked up the letter from his owl and raised an eyebrow. _Prove it to you, Percival? You'll regret it, but I'll make sure you'll know it's me._

Percy rolled his eyes and tossed the letter in the bin with the rest of the rubbish he had there.

PENELOPE'S head was pounding as tears cascading down her cheeks. Violent sobbing was followed, and a clutch of her abused pillow. She buried her head and screamed so loud she felt as if she might go mute.

At this point in time, her clothes and bedspread were wetter than a nubile female having caught sight of one of those bastards from the Weird Sisters. Her face was stickier than the jam doughnuts that she'd inhaled that morning and she felt dirtier than that silly little rat that Percy Weasley used to lug around wherever he went.

She briefly caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked a victim of muggle electroconvulsive therapy.

The large, brown buttons of her old dark pyjamas, which were adorned with small golden snidgets, were undone, showing off the lacy pale bra and the minute dusting of dark freckles underneath. She curled her legs up to her sides, burying her face so deeply into her pillow she thought that suffocation would be a legitimate issue. Her hair looked reminiscent of a golden Fwooper's nest. Her stomach rumbled with her hunger, and she didn't understand how she could be hungry after scoffing _six_ jam doughnuts for breakfast—especially considering it had only been two hours since the dreaded doughnut debacle!

"Penelope?" a voice pulled her out of her train of self-loathing and contempt. A _male_ voice... _Percy's voice_. "I believe a Holly Heywood _did_ happen to mention something to me regarding the fact that you've just about made that bed a part of your anatomy. Tell me, dear, dear _Penny_ , should I be looking for counter-charms for this particular permanent sticking charm?"

"I am _not_ in the mood for your dry, vapid humour," she huffed from her bed.

"Get out of bed, Penelope," Percy said in a stern voice. "I know you're aware that I shouldn't be standing here in this particular room in the _girls'_ dormitories. Fortunately for you, when I was eleven, Adrian Pucey taught me a simple method of bypassing the _Glisseo_ charm. I didn't come to check on you, Penelope. I've come to drag you out of this Merlin-forsaken room because quite frankly, you've been living here for five ruddy weeks and haven't been to a single class in that time frame. I am absolutely sick of covering your prefect shifts, writing your homework for you and copying notes for classes you should've been in. And as a final note, I would like to say that I think you've given me carpal tunnel syndrome."

Penelope reluctantly sat up in her bed, groaning. Her limbs had probably atrophied from disuse and she hadn't opened a book in so long that she was having a difficult time remembering what they were studying.

"You don't understand," Penelope spat out viciously.

Percy sat down beside her and placed a hand on his thigh. "No, Penelope, _you_ don't understand. If you keep doing this, you're going to be the only Ravenclaw in existence to have to repeat a year... _and your O.W.L year at that!_ If you don't start to realise what's at stake here, then you'll end up in a predicament where you realise that _Marcus Flint_ has more O.W.L's then you would."

Penelope Clearwater was appalled at this implication. "Marcus Flint will never get as many O.W.L's as me even if I do nothing but stare at the sodding ceiling whilst he studies his arse off in the library...which, from my understanding, he's _banned_ from."

"Marcus was able to make the Draught of Peace the first time round," Percy reminded her in a stern voice.

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "He _cheated_ ," she settled the issue, "which he can't do in the exam."

"No, he didn't," Percy said; voice loud and clear. "Apparently, Professor Snape confirmed it—indirectly that is. He made it clear that he would watch Marcus do it during one of Flint's _everlasting_ detentions and rumour has it that Marcus was able to replicate the potion without any difficulty. It was impressive enough that Snape hasn't said a word since. Marcus simply shows up to class and ends up brewing flawless potions. Marcus' Strengthening Solution was a _perfect_ turquoise. It was almost as if he'd liquefied the stone and offered it in a phial. I have to say, as cruel as this sounds, I do hope he's _actually_ cheating because he's getting better than I am. Any better and he could open his own bloody apothecary."

"You're scared that _Marcus Flint_ would overshadow you?" Penelope found this amusing. "He's part troll."

"So was his father, but his father _surely_ isn't a fool," Percy reminded her with a sharp look to his face. "I do wonder how he's been doing it though. I believe he's spent a total of three minutes looking at books this semester. I've never seen him work on essays, but he's handing in assignments on time— _unlike_ a certain, self-pitying Ravenclaw that I know that has driven me to write her essays for her."

Penelope's smile disappeared. "Percy, Roger _touched_ me. He might've... if you weren't there—"

" _But I was_ ," Percy cut her off with an unsympathetic look. "Penelope, I know that you felt victimised. It's why I said nothing for the first—what was it?— _five_ _weeks_."

Penelope cut him off, her eyes droopy as she ran her hand down her hair to attempt to make it look less like something out of _The Monster Book of Monsters_. "I honestly don't care, Percy."

Percy pulled off his rucksack, and then pulled out a miniature stack of papers. He used his wand to enlarge it back to their normal size, and then shoved them towards Penelope. The stack was felt heavy and her arms could barely hold the parchment paper up. He stood up, throwing his tattered, old scarlet rucksack over his shoulder (no doubt a hand-me-down considering the startling Gryffindor red) and stared back at her with a hardness in his unforgiving blue eyes.

"Roger's only thirteen. I just feel so..." Penelope looked down at the stack and caught sight of a name of a few herbs. Even the ones that she was taught at first year she wasn't able to recall. "Blimey, when did you have time to write all this _rubbish_?"

"It is _not_ rubbish!" Percy immediately challenged.

Penelope just chuckled weakly. "I'm just about three seconds away from binning it, Percival."

"I will repeat this again. Penny," Percy looked like he was only seconds away from detonating. He still attempted to keep his fury under control but failed dramatically. "I _cannot_ keep on writing your assignments for you. I _cannot_ take on your prefect duties along with mine. I _cannot_ copy my notes for you any longer. I've run out of ink. I've run out of parchment paper. I'm so broke I've sold all my scarves and gloves away for a few sickles so I can get myself a cheap arse quill to write in. I've turned in my last Charms essay on _napkins_ I stole from the Great Hall."

Penelope looked down at the stack of papers. "I heard you the first time."

"No, you didn't," Percy stated in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

Penelope snorted, but said nothing to this. He thought he was _so clever_.

"Fine," she seemed to give up. The guilt was starting to chew at her. She probably would be absolutely livid too if she had to do her work _on top_ of someone else's for five weeks. "When's our next class?"

"Penelope, it's Saturday," Percy mumbled, and then decided to mention, "And even if we had a class right now, I wouldn't take you there. Dungbombs smell fragrant compared to you and those cleaning charms you've been using don't work as well as you think they do. You need a hot _bath_ , preferably longer than five hours. I recommend incessant scrubbing and I don't know _what's_ living in your hair, but do try to dig it out, as Hogwarts only allows one pet per person."

Penelope rolled her eyes and stood up to place the papers on her desk. She opened up her closet to look for her uniform. "Have you thought of a career as a _motivational speaker_ , Percival?"

Percy only offered a sly smirk. "I got you out of bed, didn't I?"

"WHAT in Merlin's marvellous name is that?" Oliver Wood asked in a horrified tone of voice as he buttoned up his uniform, hiding away the smooth muscle underneath. Marcus was sat on the ground, wearing a scruffy old Slytherin uniform and surrounding him were various littered brown packages and a piece of parchment paper shaped like a heart (for all Oliver knew these all could've be dungbombs and the note could've read _With Love, Fred and George_ ). "Is this what you've been using to cheat with, Marc?"

"Don't call me Marc," was his automatic reply before Marcus explained as he picked up the heart-shaped parchment paper and tore off a bit so it looked more like the heart had a bit of ventricular defect, "No, you twonk. These are from _my_ _mum_. They're only sweets is all."

"Sweets?" Oliver echoed incredulously. "Why does she have to double wrap sweets?"

"They're... _unusual_... sweets, you knob. I didn't want my old mates to know about it so she'd wrap them up for me like _this_ and send them. Otherwise, they'd bloody well pick on me and irritate me," Marcus mumbled, as he picked up one of the packages and tore it off. "I don't know about you, Wood, but I want to eat my food, not shove it down some bastard's throat for annoying me."

Oliver sat down beside Marcus and stared at him as he opened up his first package and offered what looked like an amorphous pale blob that sort of reminded Oliver of Snape's nose. Oliver thought he'd rather just chuck it at the Slytherin table than have a taste of it but took it to be nice. He was glad to report that he did not wither and die inside after a mouthful of that mush, but his face did start to contort in inquiry.

"It feels like I ate a waxy brown sugar cube," Oliver admitted. It was a wee artificial too. "What is this?"

Marcus just snorted. "You don't want to know, lad."

All Oliver could do was nod his head. He accepted a quill-shaped candy Marcus took out from another package. Oliver reluctantly put it in his mouth and immediately began rethinking his friendship with Marcus.

 _"What in...?"_ Oliver needed all of his energy not to spit out the thing he'd just put into his mouth. He swallowed it whole so that he'd taste the least he could of it but he felt as if his eyes were just about to be burned in his socket. Was this what heartburn felt like? "Is this black liquorice with... what? Is that _iron_?"

"Doxy blood," Marcus said with a shrug, only for Oliver to attack him, throwing him down to the ground.

 _"Bloody hell!"_ Oliver exclaimed; abhorrence etched on his face. Marcus was laughing his normal cacophonous laughter that could've probably broken an enchanted cursed vase. "What do you mean _doxy blood?_ You better be joking, or I'll murder you and hide you under the floorboards."

"Was that an awful sodding pun, Wood? _Bloody_ hell?" Marcus was grinning. _"Doxy blood?"_

Oliver sighed deeply, and rolled his eyes. "Do you really like this rubbish?" he asked in disgust.

Marcus pushed Oliver off him, which always surprised Oliver because Marcus was shorter and smaller than him—yet he shifted round Oliver like he was just a stack of phoenix feathers.

"What do you think?" Marcus challenged, opening another package to show off a waffle that had small flecks of what appeared to be _rocks_ inside. Merlin, that _had_ to be hard on the teeth—especially if you tore off one of your teeth in the middle of a tantrum when you were eleven. "It's all I eat."

"Of course," Oliver mumbled in annoyance. "You have doxy blood for breakfast because you're _so tough_."

"Lad, you know I sleep through breakfast," Marcus rolled his eyes and then beamed at his mate. "And you call yourself _my_ best mate?"

PERCY despised Hallowe'en. Most of all, he despised that people attempted to scare the bloody bollocks out of him because he _"must've learned that squeal from Scabbers."_ Bastards.

Scabbers didn't squeal. He _squeaked_.

Speaking of Scabbers, now that he wasn't throwing himself in his _and_ Penelope's work, he had a lot of sudden free time to himself. He could now take showers that were longer than five minutes. He could sleep in. He didn't have to eat nothing for three or four days and then remedy this by eating a Hagrid-sized amount of food for the remainder of the week. Thus, Percy thought that tomorrow, he would go check up on Ron and Scabbers. He'd passed Scabbers down to Ron despite the fact that Percy absolutely adored Scabbers.

Percy would've love to mask it under brotherly consideration ( _"it wouldn't be fair if I had two but Ron had none"_ type logic), but to be honest, he wasn't allowed to bring _two pets_ to Hogwarts and there was no way in hell that Percy would give poor Scabbers to the twins. They'd probably feed him their experimental potions to see what would happen to him. Unfortunately, Percy didn't like that he'd given Scabbers to Ron either, considering once he'd seen Ron treat Scabbers as if he was a _Puffskein!_ Throwing him round like he had no brain matter so to speak of. Percy's stomach lurched at the thought of Scabbers being mistreated. At the same time, he couldn't give away Hermes. He should stop being so selfish about it, but he felt like he'd earned the right to be selfish. Percy had earned _both_ of his pets. He'd given down Scabbers to Ron and all that Ron had done thus far was whine about how boring and useless Scabbers was.

(Percy should feel bad that he was more concerned about his rat than he was about Ron and the twins, but he decided for the moment, he was sick of feeling _anything_ towards anyone for the moment.)

Last night, the portrait in the prefect bathroom said that he looked more relaxed and less likely to have an aortic dissection. This morning, the same portrait asked him if he'd misspelled something on an assignment. _As if_ he did. If Percy actually _did_ misspell a word in his assignment, he'd be in full panic attack mode, lying on the ground and wishing he was dead. Percy remembered the first time he'd gotten an _A_ on one of his papers; he remembered how dreadful he felt like. Percy also remembered that he was thirteen and had sent an extremely detailed letter to his mum, explaining that he was sorry he disappointed them. Fortunately, Percy woke up that morning and realised that sending that letter would be _embarrassing_ so he simply threw it into the fireplace and watched his carefully chosen words burn.

He'd gone about his day, very cautious about the fact that the twins might try something.

It wasn't until Percy had gotten down to Hallowe'en feast that he thought that the world must be playing a cruel joke on him. _A troll._ In Hogwarts. _A twelve-foot troll_ somehow managed to find its way to Hogwarts.

Percy's first job was to take back all the Slytherins down to their dormitories, much to most of their chagrins.

He loathed being stuck with Gemma Farley, considering things have been unbearably tense since that day at Hogsmeade. It was a very awkward experience that Percy did not wish to repeat. It definitely damped his sexual desires. Percy just about barely talked to Gemma afterwards, and Gemma pretended entirely as if it never happened, which was fine by Percy.

As Percy attempted not to make eye contact with Gemma, he apparently missed _a collosal fight_ break out in front of his inattentive blue eyes.

Just as Percy drove back into reality, he grabbed Marcus (surprise, surprise, a fight broke out and _Flint_ was somehow involved) and pulled him off the massive seventh year that was somehow lying on the ground with blood seeping from the bloke's mouth. Marcus was shaking from rage in Percy's arms and Percy wondered how Flint even managed to keep on doing this to blokes that literally had three or sometimes four stones of muscle weight on top of Marcus' weight.

However, it seemed that a few Slytherins didn't want to comply. Marcus was grabbed from one of the seventh year's friends, Adrian, Terence and Miles suddenly grabbed him by his shoulders to lift him up. He attempted to break free of this hold, but it was difficult when four Slytherins were holding onto him.

Percy was just about to ask what in Merlin's name were they trying to do when they had a troll running round Hogwarts before a _Stupefy_ was sounded out and the last thing that Percy remembered was catching a stunned Gemma Farley before being hit with a jet of red light himself.

 _"LET me go, you bastards!"_ Marcus exclaimed, trying to wriggle out of the Slytherins' grip but failing dramatically. Marcus may be extremely strong, but he couldn't exactly face four blokes that were _much_ taller than him holding onto him and lifting him off the ruddy ground.

Miles knew that this was a bad idea the minute that Adrian thought of it. Honestly, Miles and Terence were reluctant when it came to giving Marcus a clobber on the head.

Not to mention the fact that every time that Miles looked at Marcus, he could remember the bloke crying out with his bloodied tooth in his hand... and now, they were _actively_ trying to give him a whack?

Miles, however, also knew that the whole of Slytherin loathed Marcus just as much as the other houses did because he'd got into so many rows with the _whole bloody school_. Even if Miles _wanted_ to side with Marcus, it would be murder to any social life he had. Adding onto that, Adrian was the _team captain_ and Adrian hated Marcus more than he hated being compared to Ole Greasy. Miles would get kicked off just for _thinking_ that maybe they should lay off Marcus just a little bit.

Miles looked up over at Terence, whom was sharing a weary expression. Miles tried to loosen his grip as much as possible, but Marcus looked to have stopped fighting and was just staring at the ground.

Miles looked away from Marcus. Merlin, he felt _ill_. He couldn't believe he was doing this to his _old mate_.

They were trudging round the castle, avoiding teachers and looking for that damned troll that everyone was talking about. Just when they'd heard something about the girls' bathroom (which made Adrian grin) and off they went. The troll was knocked out, so it wasn't like they had to face the ruddy thing. They'd simply dumped Marcus on his arse (the bloody bastard fell _asleep_ when they were looking for the troll) whilst the big ole troll was just coming to and then turned to run out of the bathroom and locked them both inside.

They leaned up against the door to hear what was going on. They were snickering to each other, and Miles felt awful. He half wanted to go inside and help the lad before he got maimed.

The dead silence had them wondering what was going on.

After moments of deliberation and wondering whether a silencing charm was used, Adrian decided to unlock the door. Miles' heart was hammering in his chest. They expected a full blown attack.

What they didn't expect was to find Marcus sat down on the bathroom floor, with his legs crossed and his hands on his knees, head cocked to the side. The troll was sitting opposite of him, grunting loudly.

"Don't bring this up," Terence suddenly said to Miles in a serious tone of voice. "Ever."

Miles was biting back his tongue, trying not to laugh because Marcus and his mate, the troll, well... they looked like they were a _philosophical debate_.

PERCY woke up with Gemma on top of him. Her button was somewhat undone and her chest was pressed up against his. He recalled a stunned Gemma falling on top of him and then him being stunned. He was sure that although he was stupefied, his hands didn't _just_ fall into Gemma's knickers. Those bastards had set him up! What with the reputation and rumours about what he and Gemma did in Hogsmeade... Percy wanted to be enthralled, but he was groggy from the spell and the only thing he could think about was the fact that _this_ was surely a better experience than the sex that they've had.

He pulled himself up and helped Gemma up. She, too, looked more satisfied than that day in Hogsmeade.

Percy wondered if he'd drunken anything funny that day. He rubbed his eyes, and then they widened when he remembered exactly _why_ they were stunned in the first place. It seemed to have dawned on Gemma too, because they suddenly turned to run down the hallway before Percy suddenly hid a bony body. Gemma crashed into him, and all three of them fell onto the ground.

Percy looked up, and realised that Snape was staring at them, looking like he was one second away from inflicting genuine physical pain on them.

"In times like these, Mr Weasley and Ms Farley," Snape said through gritted teeth, "I appreciate it if my prefects are _not_ having it off in the middle of a main corridor. Now, if you two will tell me what in Godric's name is going on before I resort to—?"

"We fixed the damages, Professor!" Marcus called out. "Do I still have to go to tonight's detention?"

Snape turned around and let out a shriek that made Percy bite his cheek to prevent himself from laughing. That was until he looked at Marcus and felt his face drain when he noticed that Marcus was holding hands with a somewhat irritated mountain troll.


	37. Chapter 37

_i reread this. loved how everything flowed up until Snape cried expulsion, but i'm using it as a basis for what it says about Snape rather than an actual thing that was legitimately going to happen (not sure if that makes any sense) but it **does** establish where Snape stands very nicely._

 ** _replies to any inquiries:_**

 _ **ToaKraka:** aye, my grammar and spelling can be a bit of an issue. English is not my first language. i mentally do know the difference between the two but sometimes, just muck up on point for some reason. i didn't even know i used the word "lewd" at all during this fanfic until i did a search just to confirm that i did, in fact, do those mistakes! i do reread these but a lot goes over my head so there tends to be quite a few mistakes. only sometimes until i've reread them 4-5 times over do i realise that i've accidentally used word 1 when i meant word 2, or that i've completed dropped the t on a word like 'ate.' i'm a quick reader, even when i attempt to read slowly. i would go back and correct them, but honestly, i can't be arsed! ;) hope i'm forgiven for mistakes (and any future ones i'm bound to make). also, thanks for the comment! hoping that you're enjoying this fanfic despite the spelling/grammar issues xxx_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Seven

* * *

 _Dear Audrey,_

 _Yes, you have read that letter correctly. A twelve-foot troll really did manage to find its way to Hogwarts. Yes, Marcus Flint did attempt to befriend it. Flint has been odd since then, however, and keeps on walking around, insisting that Quirrel was the one that let the troll in. _

_It is becoming more and more apparent that Marcus needs to consume something of sustenance before he starts to insist that the Dark Lord himself has risen from the dead. It's a cruel jibe at him, but it is probably true. _

_Mum was seconds away from throwing herself at the school. She sent me a letter, illustrating her great panic. Apparently, Ron was found to be seen round the troll as well, and instead of helping my younger brother, I was too busy being stunned on the ground with my hands up Gemma's knickers. Lovely._

 _When I was eleven, Charlie's time was spent fraternising with awful women and Quidditch. Still, he would've done something if I was ever to encounter a troll. I am not pleased with myself._

 _This 'Ares' bloke yet again sent me another warning. I opened it and expected him to tell me something to the tone of "don't eat the custard tarts, Percival. They're dangerous" or "I will get a rabid dog to ascend from the Underworld simply to eat your Muggle Studies homework." Unfortunately, he's only sent another cryptic message, claiming that he had set out his plans to make me suffer during Christmas time, as he had last time he was "masquerading as Caius Flint" and thought it to be a wonderful time to make me miserable. He also wants us to strike some sort of a 'deal', and told me if I did not cooperate, I will 'regret' not listening to the Greek God that is sending me letters via owls—because this is what Greek Gods do. This is before even taking into account that said owl refuses to eat any of my owl treats and has taken to biting me repeatedly until I threaten it with fire (literally. I have tried to Incendio this Merlin-forsaken death bird). _

_Instead of binning this gem of a letter, I decided to attempt to poke out Terence Higgs' eye with it. Due to my terrific luck, Bletchley attempted to poke my eye back with a quill sharper than the fabled sword of Gryffindor. Speaking of Gryffindor, my eye had calmed down from being a rather striking red down to the pink of a bottle of Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher._

 _They attempted to burn some of my essays. I attempted to burn one of their brooms._

 _After that, they've left me alone for the rest of the week. Instead, they're trying to pick on Marcus. This cannot end well, because Marcus has less tolerance than Ron round Hermione Granger (when did they even become friends is my question). _

_I am keeping my fingers crossed and hoping that Ron becomes closer to Hermione and forgoes Harry all together at some point. Hermione is a model student. I have no idea how Ron ended up being round a troll and although I have no evidence, I have a feeling that Harry Potter is involved. I've been to a few Quidditch games recently, only to discover that Harry Potter is the Gryffindor Seeker. The favouritism shown towards Harry Potter infuriates me to no end. I do not care that he has saved the wizarding world from turmoil. First years aren't allowed brooms. Not to mention the fact that Fred and George are already making a profit over this somehow—they're selling chunks of wood from Harry's bed! I've heard they've managed to sell a lump of wood that was as small as a doornail for fifteen sickles! That's nearly a whole Galleon. _

_I genuinely think that it's Colin bloody Creevey that's been buying all this bollocks._

 _I am appalled by this. I am genuinely appalled. My mum sent me a letter also inquiring about whether or not Harry was alright and how he was getting along. She sent me a parcel for him. She told me that Ron was staying over at Hogwarts during Christmas time with him. As I'm writing this, Hermes is giving me that look when he's displeased with something I've done. However, it is true. She has seven bloody children. She does not need to unofficially adopt Harry Potter. She does not need to send me messages asking me about how he is, or what he's had for supper. It's irrelevant! _

_I have given Fred and George detention. Truthfully, I've done it because I'm tired of them attempting to frustrate me. I do not actually have a solid reason as to why I've given them detention, but they seem to believe that I do, which leads me to think that they actually did so something that warrants a detention. Now, I've just to find out what it is. _

_Speaking of detention, I did tell you that I warranted my own bed in the infirmary due to the amount of instances I fall ill post... well, you know post-what (I would like to take this time to remind you that no, I do not get caught and yes, I do hide myself when I am about to have a bit of a... jolt. I get a sense of it before.)_

 _Apparently, Marcus warranted his own bed in Snape's dungeons. This is due to the sheer volume of detentions he's managed to rack himself up in._

 _Hermes is doing well. I've been somewhat neurotic and motherly-like towards him. Scabbers has lost weight on my watch multiple times, so I have been very insistent on feeding Hermes not only his owl treats, but he is welcome to anything that I've not finished. Needless to say, Hermes is now the size of an eagle. He is very upset about being one of the bigger owls, and tends to overeat because he is upset. At this rate, this time next year, I will have a chimera-sized owl. This is something I am trying to remedy as if Hermes gets any larger, the laws of gravity would cause him to fall from the sky. I have tried to put him on a diet, but he is very resistant. I believe this is how children are like when you overfeed them and they start to balloon to monstrous proportions. Fortunately, my family, whilst drastically overfed, seem to have the metabolism of a nundu. Speaking of my family, Fred and George have recently put on a bit of weight. They look bloody brilliant. It's awful! They're shaping up already, and I still look like I did at eleven! _

_Nowadays, muggleborns are keeping me up all ruddy night. They are attempting to "smoke" gillyweed. It apparently 'doesn't work.' The Hufflepuff prefects (both muggleborn) seem to find this hilarious. I do not understand this._

 _I will end this letter now. This is not because I've run out of things to say. I have simply run out of parchment paper and I am too poor to afford more. I may steal some, but if I did, you didn't hear it from me. I do not break any rules, remember?_

 _Sincerely yours,_

 _Percival Ignatius Weasley._

 _PS. Can you send me pictures of Lucy? I've missed seeing her. Perhaps, during the summer, I might watch her for a bit if you ever need to go out to events where drools and temper tantrums aren't typically warranted._

"WHERE is he?" fifteen-year-old Percy Weasley was standing in front of Ron with a look of extreme austerity, his lips were pursed in such a tight line that he'd lost any colour to them. His back was straight, his chest puffed as if he had more muscles than Oliver Wood, and his blue eyes were colder than the supposed wintry 'death' weather outside. Percy himself had the thinnest coat possible on top of his frame (to appease his mum of course as he'd promised her in writing that he was indeed wearing _something_ for the cold). However, the heat and anger from his lost childhood and perpetual self-hatred insulated him well enough _thank you very much_.

Ron rolled his eyes as he shuffled through his pockets, and finally pulled out Scabbers. Percy picked him up from Ron's hands, and then felt his shoulders deflate when he realised that Scabbers _definitely_ had put some on and looked ruddy energetic (compared to when Percy had him before. He had less energy than a Victoria Sponge back then). Percy had failed at taking care of his lovely little rat, and Ron, who usually treated Scabbers as a _Puffskein_ , had been able to put some life back into his tiny little rat.

 _Bloody failure of a—_

"That's fine, thank you," Percy said, stiffening his shoulders and offering Scabbers back. His hand went to his rucksack and then he pulled out a large piece of parchment paper and handed it over to Ron. "I have constructed a list of things that you are to do in case of any emergency. I've outlined various scenarios and what I would like you to do in those cases. Though I was not able to spend much time with you this semester due to my impending O.W.L's and the fact that every time I walked into your dorm room, you have pretended to be asleep or insisted on having Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas or Neville Longbottom tell me that you were busy doing homework and did not want to be disturbed— I would like to mention that I would need to down a lethal amount of firewhiskey to believe _that_. Oh, and I mustn't forget the fact that I've had to send you owls to inform you of important events, such as urgently informing you of the fact that Tomes and Scrolls is having a sale just in case you wanted some vital reading material. Instead, you send me owls, telling me that you hope that my owl mistakes my hair as a pile of very vibrant caramel cobwebs and that you hope someone attempts to _Engorgio_ my aneurysm."

Ron rolled out the list, which had just about hit the ground almost instantly upon him unrolling it. Ron stared up at Percy with a raised eyebrow. "What _is_ this rubbish?"

Percy nodded his head. "I'm glad that you have accepted my parting gift," he said, and then turned to Harry, whom had his head cocked and was staring the parchment in Ron's hand. Percy had no doubt that they would use it for something he would instantly disprove of. "Please answer my owls, if just to humour me. If you have any question regarding anything, I will be in the Great Hall at approximately seven in the evening and will be there until seven-thirty."

He flicked his eyes towards Harry. "Don't get into any trouble now."

Ron didn't miss the look that Percy had passed over to Harry. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Pardon?" Percy raised an eyebrow. Yes, he did act like he didn't understand what Ron meant.

"That look you gave over to Harry," Ron immediately said, looking highly defensive of Harry. It was just a bloody... If that plonker could survive Voldemort's Killing Curse, he could survive a look of disapproval.

"What look?" _brilliant_. Harry had missed it completely.

"The look that Mum gives the Egyptian tarts that Bill brings back home," Ron said smoothly.

"Ronald, enough of that nonsense now," Percy rolled his eyes, pursing his lips together again. Any tighter and they might be permanently stuck together. "You'll be greatly missed over at the Burrow."

"Right," Ron echoed, mind still on that 'look' no doubt. "We'll miss you too, Percy. You know, we'll have a hard time crowning the King Prat what with you being in the Burrow and all."

Well, that just about shattered any of Percy's plans to get Ron to be close to him and idolise him. At this point, Ron idolised Whomping Willows more than he idolised Percy. Apparently, at least _they_ were interesting and did more than stand there, ruining his fun and giving his best friend a look that would send Harry into hysterics. Harry didn't even look like he knew what in Merlin's name Ron was talking about. Apparently, that _Molly look of disapproval_ seemed to only be engrained in the memories of people that had seen their mum with that dazzling look before.

With a final look over at them, Percy disappeared down to his dorm room, only to discover that Terence Higgs had taken his trousers down and was just about to urinate into Percy's trunk. _Top-notch day this day was._

"MR Flint? Mr Wood?" McGonagall called out, watching the black-haired boy throw his rucksack over his shoulder and approach her with an apathetic look drawn to his prominent features. Oliver Wood was already standing beside her, overdue essays tucked under his arms, dark eyes planted firmly to the ground. "Firstly, I would like to remind the two of you— _again_ —that you cannot be using the Gryffindor dorms as your personal play room. This is the kind of behaviour I would expect first years to engage in. If I do hear another complaint about Mr Flint being in that room, there will be more major consequences than the few detentions that you've been having here and there. Is that understood?"

Oliver watched Marcus slowly nod his head before he turned to leave.

"Mr Flint, _sit down_. I am not finished," McGonagall stated, only for Marcus to turn around and sit himself over in front of one of the desks. His apathetic face suddenly contorted into one of momentary bewilderment. "Most of us have been perplexed about the validity of your assignments this semester as you already know. Mr Wood has also shown concern towards this, and has been asking me consistently about what are the consequences of cheating and what if you _somehow_ managed to carry it onto your O.W.L's. Considering that your Head of House hasn't been too forthcoming with this situation and you have somehow implanted yourself into the Gryffindor dormitories for the past few months with resistance to leave, I feel like it is at least my responsibility to ask you again, Mr Flint: have you been cheating in an unconventional manner?"

Oliver watched Marcus' face start to contort into rage that he was obviously trying to suppress. He bit down his lip so hard that Oliver wouldn't be surprised if he drew out his own blood in the process.

"Yes, I am cheating, professor," Marcus deflated, his voice scratchy.

McGonagall's face remained stern. "Mr Wood, can you please go alert Professor Snape of this?"

Oliver didn't want to leave, but he thought that the faster he walked away, the quicker he'd come back. He tried to walk out of the room as quick as he could and spent his time running down to the dungeons.

If he was running, he wasn't thinking about the guilt gnawing at his heart.

By the time that he'd gotten to Snape's quarters, his chest felt like it was lit on fire.

He found Snape talking to Dumbledore. Oliver tripped over air a few times before he'd actually got to Snape, wheezing for a few seconds as he tried to catch his breath. Blimey, he booked the Quidditch field at five in the morning sometimes, so why did he feel like he was about to die of oxygen deprivation? He could feel an ache in his bones, not from the running or from his intense Quidditch training, but just a general tiredness from the events of the day. His head was spinning, and for a few seconds, the guilt _ateateate_ his mind until there was nothing left but that heavy remorse sitting on his shoulders. _Heshouldn'thavetoldMcGonagall. Heshouldn'thavetoldMcGonagall._

After catching his breath, Oliver told Snape about Professor McGonagall needing him. With a grumble and a quick apology to Dumbledore, Snape walked to the Transfiguration class with Oliver walking beside him.

Oliver wished that a bolt of lightning would suddenly hit him.

He felt like such a deplorable human being. He said nothing to Snape, and Snape didn't look to be in the mood for mindless chitchat with some nameless Gryffindor. Oliver wondered what his father would've said if he'd seen him right now, _snitching on his friend_. His only friend. Whom happened to also be the bloke that tormented him when he was eleven.

When they'd gotten to the classroom, Oliver noticed that McGonagall didn't look angry. He didn't know if this was a good or bad thing. She had a nod over towards Snape, whom just gave a firm but irritated nod back at her. Oliver would've thought it was funny if not for the fact that he was just bout to throw up from how much he loathed himself right then. He took a look back at Marcus, whom seemed to be looking at the ground, arms crossed over his chest and his lips were pursed into a tight line.

"Mr Flint has confided in me and has mentioned that he has been using charmed textbooks and quills from Durmstrang to help him with his assignments," McGonagall stated. "He has also told me that he has memorised one particular potion, that is the Draught of Peace, and that is why he was able to replicate it during his detention with little problem. Whilst you were coming up, we've come up with a suitable compromise. He is to rewrite all of his assignments before sitting his O.W.L's. Of course, considering I'm not the Head of his House, I do not have any say in if this follows through. However, I thought it suitable to be brought up."

"You're right about one thing, Minerva. You are not the Head of his House," Snape took the time to look down at Marcus with a cold look to his dark eyes. "I want Dumbledore to expel him."

If Oliver felt guilty before, he was swallowed in it now. He refused to look at Marcus.

 _"You cannot tell Dumbledore to expel Mr Flint over cheating on assignments!"_ McGonagall barked out in irritation.

"Cheating on assignments is nowhere near his only offence," Snape scoffed. The look that Snape gave Marcus made Oliver feel like the man wanted to throw Marcus in Azkaban. "He's gotten into numerous rows, often sending other students to the infirmary in the process. I've never had any other student sit through nine hour detentions with me before; much less nine hour detentions just round _every day_. Minerva, I see him more often than most mothers see their infants!"

"You cannot insist that expelling him is a proper course of action," McGonagall insisted with a firm voice. "Severus, open your eyes. You're being unreasonable."

" _You're_ being biased," Snape spat back out coldly.

" _I'm_ the biased one?" McGonagall chided, raising an eyebrow. "We'll see about that! Let's go sort this out with Dumbledore right now."

Oliver watched them both scurry away, the feeling of guilt somehow amplifying (how could it _possibly_ get any worse than this?). He felt absolutely worthless. He _just_ wanted to help, and now...

He looked back at Marcus, whom waited until both McGonagall and Snape left before he allowed big fat tears to roll down his cheeks. Oliver's stomach twisted into knots, and he found himself immediately turning to Marcus. Needless to say, the black-haired Slytherin turned his body away almost immediately and placed his head into his hands. Oliver wondered if Marcus would actually hurt him (Oliver was secretly hoping that it would because it would lessen the shame brewing in his veins) but he reached out to place a hand on Marcus' shaking shoulder. He pulled himself closer and wrapped his arms around Marcus.

After just under a minute, Marcus straightened his spine and then wiped away his tears.

Oliver watched Marcus pull out a bottle of a light purple liquid from his black rucksack, splash a bit on his hand before wiping his face.

"What's _that_?" Oliver couldn't help himself from asking, abandoning the fact that he wasn't supposed to speak considering he was the biggest git in the world.

Marcus looked back at the bottle. "Charmed water," his voice sounded scratchy as he tossed the bottle.

Oliver just about barely managed to catch it. He stared at the description. It was charmed water. It was charmed to _prevent acne_.

" _Where_ did you find this?" Oliver tried not to laugh. He shouldn't be laughing. Oliver was having a mental battle between hating himself for making this situation lighter than it was and commending himself for making Marcus smile, even if just a little bit.

Marcus just looked away, that small smile disappearing. "My sisters all have _Witch Weekly_ subscriptions."

"This is from a _Witch Weekly_ subscription?" Oliver's laughter died in his throat when he realised that Marcus was quiet again. He placed the bottle on the desk and Marcus took it, shoving it back into his rucksack.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, before McGonagall and Snape returned back.

If Marcus had to be thrown out of Hogwarts for this, Oliver would never forgive himself. If he felt this terrible about the situation, he didn't know how Marcus felt like. Then again, it was his fault for cheating in the first place, wasn't it? Still, Oliver couldn't hate him for cheating. It was just something that Marcus did.

Oliver was trying to assess how sour-like Snape's face was to determine whether or not he was denied his request to expel Marcus. He had come up with—well, _nothing_ —considering Snape was _always_ this sour.

"Mr Flint," Snape's voice was high. "The assignments are to be rewritten. _All of them_. Before your O.W.L's. You are also revoked from your Hogsmeade privileges for the rest of the year regardless of what your mother says in your defence. Is that understood?"

Marcus slowly nodded his head. Oliver felt relief, but Marcus didn't look very relieved at all.

"I HEARD someone got into a bit of trouble," said Adrian Pucey in a mocking, condescending tone of voice when Marcus walked into his previous dorm. He placed a thin hand on Marcus' pallid shoulder, staring at his facial expression with a look of inescapable glee. "Someone nearly got expelled today, didn't they? We knew you were cheating, you bastard. You're so stupid that I bet if the muggles cut your head open, they'd see nothing but bloody tea swimming inside there."

Marcus said nothing to this, and instead just walked to where his bed used to be, which Adrian personally hexed with enough lice to give Marcus a very rude awakening the following morning.

"What? Kneazle got your tongue, mate?" Adrian asked, obviously enjoying this situation.

"Pucey, do _not_ make me dock points from Slytherin a day before we have to leave just because you're being a right arse," Percy Weasley said, as he walked into the room, rolling his eyes. Underneath his arm was a hotchpotch of books tucked underneath, and he seemed to be in relatively good spirits. "I am in a brilliant mood and I do not want you to ruin it for me."

Percy's eyes were on Marcus. "Marcus, Snape has talked to me and for a good few months, it'll be me that'll help you with your allotted assignments out of the sheer goodness of my heart. Do _not_ make me angry."

Adrian laughed as if he'd heard a brilliant joke. Terence and Miles busied themselves with packing.

"Let's start on an assignment right now!" Percy suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Marcus by his elbow. "It's still relatively early. We can stop by the Great Hall, get a spot of dinner, do some reading and then we can go to the library where I can direct you to a few books. I was already given an extensive list of what you need to rewrite, so it best be that you and I get a crack on it _now_."

Adrian let himself laugh, as Percy practically dragged a noncompliant Marcus out of bed. This was brilliant.

FOR the past hour, Percy had been animatedly talking about the Arithmancy assignment that Marcus had. Why Marcus took Arithmancy in the first place was a bit of a mystery. It was entertaining to talk about it though. Though it was nowhere near Percy's favourite subject, he had no problem talking about it nonstop for the past hour and could continue for another ten. However, Percy was noticing that Marcus' eyelids were shut and he seemed to be humming to himself.

"Don't forget that Arithmancy, whilst based on numbers, can also include Ancient Runes," Percy suddenly decided, noticing that he'd made a very good outline for Marcus for his Arithmancy assignment. All he had to do was check out the books, read them and write a short excerpt. Percy had done the hard part for him, which was referring him to the relevant books and chapters. "I hope you've brushed up on your Care of Magical Creatures nomenclature because that, too, is intertwined with Ancient Runes and—"

Percy's eyes lit up when he saw Penelope walk over to their table. He'd just finished his cheese toasties.

"Marcus," Penelope eyed his salad leaves (yes, _just_ the leaves). "That's very elfish of you."

"Would people stop mistaking me for an elf?" Marcus hissed, grabbing the papers and walking off. Penelope stood there, confused at his agitation and looked back at Percy for questions.

Percy just shrugged. "I'm surprised he even bothered to take my notes."

OLIVER manoeuvred through the compartments in his avid search for his best _(ex?)_ mate. In his pockets, he had a few milk chocolates frogs as a poor form of a peace offering.

He found his mate sitting by himself; his face and body absolutely covered in red, raised painful-looking bumps from what Oliver reasoned had to be lice. His school uniform was replaced by an oversized black coat and trousers that had more tears in it than Oliver's copy of _Quidditch Through The Ages_. Marcus looked up at Oliver, his expression of pure defeat and Oliver felt his heart crumble. He sat down beside him, waiting for Marcus to tell him to bugger off, but instead, Marcus just offered a smirk.

Marcus then pulled out his charmed purple water bottle, and said very seriously, "This doesn't work."


	38. Chapter 38

_yes, it's been 2 weeks since my last update. i'm sorry. i do want to mention that i've started university recently, and i just wanted to let you know that updates will be less frequent. i may not update for 1-2 weeks at a time if my workload is very heavy. i'm just tucking into the workload. this story is not abandoned._

 _i feel so sorry for **Arthur**. there, i said it.  he's the real victim in this fanfic. i keep on making him an arse. this chapter was supposed to go about differently, but i just felt so bad for how awful i've made Arthur (again and again... and again). i've re-written most of the scenes in this chapter (scenes that originally took me a week to write. ugh), just so Arthur appears as less of a terrible human being. __at least i can tell you in the **original** draft, he was nice. in the **second** draft, he was worse than Caius Flint (yes, that abuse warning was originally intended for him). in this draft, he's somewhere in between. _

_this chapter took so long to write, however, that i'm not going to attempt to re-write again. i just... it's one of those chapters i don't particularly like, but has to be written._ _i had re-written it so that Arthur comes off as sweeter and gentler than he did first time round. it's definitely coming along._

 ** _the plot should be obvious enough at this point, especially with the 'Athena's gift'_** _ **comment**._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Eight

* * *

Molly Weasley was cutting chicken breast into pieces. She placed her knife down beside the cutting board and let herself sigh. She could've done it with her wand, but she didn't want to.

Charlie mentioned something about _being scratched, sick dragons, quarantine_ and _have to come home today_.

The sound of a _POP_ pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned around and felt her heart jolt up to her throat.

 _"CHARLIE!"_ Molly exclaimed. Last time he'd been here, he'd had three or four scars on his arm and seldom patches of burn tissue. Right now, there wasn't a single patch of pale tissue. His entire body was scarred down to his fingertips, and where there wasn't scar tissue, there was burn tissue. On his cheek, there were three elongated shallow cuts. _"WHEN YOU WROTE TO ME, YOU SAID YOU HAD A FEW **SCRATCHES**! I'm going down to that reserve myself and I'm going to kill all of your pitiful, uncharitable little—"_

"Mum, the new dragons are sweethearts," a haggard, dishevelled Charlie cocked his head to one side. His brown eyes were cloudy and glossy, and he couldn't stop smiling. He looked like he was one second away from falling into a coma right then on the floor. He also looked so mangled that the chicken that Molly was cutting looked to be in better condition. "They just like to bite a little... _BUT_ they're only playing!"

Molly placed a hand on his muscled shoulder. According to Charlie's letter, most of these scars were open wounds and flowing freely only _hours_ ago. The fact that the wounds were mended yet _produced scars_ told Molly how bad this was. "Charlie, how much blood have you lost within the last twenty-four hours?"

Charlie laughed gaudily. "Not much, but mum..." he placed his hand onto hers, looking at her with a serious facial expression, "Mum, I need to take a blood-replenishing potion every hour so I don't go into hypovolaemic shock."

Molly stared at him with a terrified expression. "Charlie, maybe you need another healer."

"No, _mummummum_ I don't," Charlie insisted, offering another loud laugh. Errol screeched in alert, thinking that there was going to be an attack. "I've gone to the healers in Romania already. They gave me some... _something_. Mum, it's the most wonderful potion in the world. I was in all sorts of pain a while ago, but this—this took it all away! I'm soaring, mum. This is like being on the Quidditch field, except—except even better! I feel like I'm in Valhalla! They should've given it to you when you were pushing Ginny out and maybe then you wouldn't have been such a—"

"Charles, I am sure that somewhere in your non-potion-addled mind, you know not to finish that sentence," Molly said in a stern voice. Her eyes were on a patch of burned skin on his upper arm. "You look like you've been mauled and chewed out by a chimera for Godric's sake—and then burned alive at stake! Are you sure that the hospital didn't give you something other than blood replenishing potions? I don't want to look at these— _these things!_ There isn't a patch of your skin that's in one piece, Charlie!"

"Dad also looked like he was mauled out by a chimera after you gave birth to Ginny and he didn't need more than a few sips of a potion," Charlie was _giggling_. He shook his head. "Mum, don't forget. They gave me this brilliant pain potion. I took some last night and it warmed me up so well that I've decided to walk down the reserve in my skivvies... well, a few baby dragons thought I was an intruder, but I dodged _that_ fire ball, you know! I did that! And—"

Molly shrieked. _"CHARLIE!"_

"They're too young to know, mum," Charlie insisted. He then sunk to the floor, placing his head in his hands. "Mum, I'm seeing Quidditch emblems flying about. Is this normal?"

Molly sunk down to his level, placing a hand on his thigh. "Charlie? Charlie, can you hear me?"

Charlie seemed to be drifting away. " _Mmhmm_... I'm Charlie Weasley; my identification card is down my underpants and since your mate has my hands tied, I think you should sink your hands down there yourself."

"Charles, you are going upstairs right now and having a lie-in right now—"

"Is _that_ the time?" Charlie looked over at the clock and then laughed brilliantly.

Before Molly could say anything, another _POP_ sounded out and Charlie had disappeared.

ARTHUR was pulled away from his thoughts momentarily when he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," Arthur thought that was strange. _Nobody_ knocked on his door.

His regular Friday visitors usually barged into his office, bearing enough firewhiskey to stock The Three Broomsticks for weeks and insisting that they should all get wasted.

(" _Come on, Arthur, Molly wouldn't notice if you came home drunk off your arse_.")

Arthur didn't expect a tall, blonde woman to walk inside. He didn't expect her hair to be longer than the (terribly extensive) sheet of parchment paper that he was given at the beginning of the week to finish. Her thick, dark blue frock looked like it was made from manticore fur. The cloak that she was wearing on top of that was a _bit_ much. Her boots could break a dragon's jaw.

Her figure reminded him of the hourglass in a Time-Turner—full up and down with a middle that was so minute that Arthur believed that spells had to have been used to contort it that way.

Following her was Ayden Clearwater. He looked even more petite beside her. Well, it was hard for him not to look small when a schoolgirl towered over him by at least three or four inches. His long, wavy golden hair looked less Malfoy-ish than it did the past week. He looked like he hadn't slept at all this past week. The bags under his eyes were so severely pronounced that he looked like an Inferius.

"Professor—I mean, Mr Weasley... Percy's father...sir..." her cheeks coloured in.

" _Bastard_. You forgot bastard, Pen," Ayden piped in, offering a smirk and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Penelope's forgotten to give one of your many, many, _many_ sons his Christmas gift, so I said that we can pop by your office when I'm done trying to convince Henry that he and I should go to the pub after this. What about you, Arthur? Do you want to come with? Do I have to use my new muggle hypnotism tricks to lure you in?"

"Ayden, there's a reason last time I went with the pub with you was in 1970. We needed both the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to sort out the muddle that we've gotten into. Molly still hammers me about it to this day," Arthur explained, shaking his head as he recalled what would forever be dubbed as _the cherry blossom tree_ incident. Ayden looked like he was reminiscing that time with a smile. "Good luck with the pub."

"Good luck?" Ayden seemed entertained. "I know my limits, Arthur. I'm not coming home sloshed. I still have a wife and beautiful daughter to take care of."

Penelope seemed to blush at that last bit. " _Dad_ ," she said in a whining tone of voice. "Stop it."

"I mean good luck _not_ committing a murder when someone asks you for your identification to make sure that you really are of age," Arthur snorted, only for Ayden's cheeks to colour in dramatically. Arthur looked back at Penelope with a soft expression. "What is it that you wanted to give me, love? I'll be sure to give it to Percival and let it know it's from you."

Penelope brightened up and pulled out a package. She'd charmed it to its original size, and offered it back up to Arthur with a smile so sweet that he felt like he couldn't have any of Molly's pudding tonight.

"What did you get him then?" Arthur couldn't help but be curious.

Penelope's cheeks coloured in. "Oh, it's actually a very boring gift," she placed her hand on her shoulder hesitantly. "It's a few sweatpants and those long-sleeved Quidditch shirts. I didn't know which team to get, so I went with what most of the Slytherins tended to like, which is the Falmouth Falcons and Ballycastle Bats—teams I'm sure you and the rest of your family actively loathe. I did this to save his life, because you see, he did say he was going to shop for something more causal—and knowing Percy, _more causal_ probably meant that school short trousers and argyle sweaters. I couldn't let him do that to himself because if he does, I would fear that the blokes in our year would've beaten to death by a bunch of quills."

Arthur nodded his head. "Now, the only thing you have to worry about is Ron trying not to beat Percival to death with a bunch of quills." Ron loathed both of those teams more than he loathed Percy—which Percy had once decided was absolutely impossible.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that Hermione would restrain him. Getting that much blood on his hands would _expel_ him after all," she shuddered at the last thought.

Arthur watched them both walk away. He tucked the package under his arms, and turned to leave the building. He still had quite a bit to do, but there was nothing that he couldn't wrap up by a very productive Monday morning. Arthur sighed deeply to himself, wondering what on Earth he was supposed to buy Percy _now_ for Christmas. He had enough books to start a library ( _literally_ ). Penelope seemed to think of an absolutely perfect gift for him without much thought to it—seemingly. Arthur might need to consult Rowena Ravenclaw just to find a gift as good or as interesting. And Percy? He might as well be a riddle in its entirety! Three years ago, he demanded to be given birthday gifts to cover _all_ the birthdays that they'd managed to forget (this, of course, made Molly cry and apologise and Arthur dangerously homicidal because it wasn't like they _purposely_ forgot his birthday) and this year, no matter what in Godric's name they did, Percy refused gifts. And seemed to be just fine that they'd forgotten his birthday _again_.

Merlin, when _was_ his birthday again? It was close to Ginny's but—

The last thing he recalled was gathering up some of his paperwork to put into a desk before he blacked out.

FRED and George had many, many tales of horror to tell Ginny this Christmas (similarly to what it was when they first discovered how expensive nose-biting teacups really were when you wanted to buy twenty of them) as they made it down to Bill, Ginny—...and _Charlie?_

Why was Charlie there and how could one have burns _on their burns?_ Merlin.

"What did mum say when she saw those?" Fred couldn't believe that Charlie even bothered to come back home without doing some kind of Romanian skin therapy to restore his skin to its full youthfulness (maybe they said that Charlie didn't have enough wrinkles and that the creases from the dragon fire didn't count as a serious, legitimate _have-to-fix-it- **now**_ problem.)

"These little things?" Charlie said, gesturing from head to toe. "Just a few scraps is all. Don't worry. If I get burned in the same place a _third_ time, I'm guaranteed to have lost the pain receptors in that part of my skin."

Bill glared over at Charlie, whom just shrugged and muttered, _'it **is** going to happen again.'_

Fred didn't understand how Charlie could be just fine and dandy with a few dragons ripping apart his skin and making him look more like one of their mum's patchwork blankets but he just about tore the house apart when they decided to put dungbombs in his closet? Fred did actually feel like they should be taking the fact that Charlie looked like he'd been flambéed alive more seriously, but Charlie was happier now than he'd been when he'd won that ruddy House Cup.

"Where's Percy?" Ginny asked, pulling Fred out of his thoughts. She was looking round as if she'd missed a six foot bloke with bright red hair the first time round.

"Percy? Oh, you don't want to know where Percy is," Fred stated solemnly. "He's mad—"

"—not Lovegood mad," George nodded his head. "Snape after O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's week mad—"

"—and he _was_ going to kill us," Fred ended the sentence. "But now, he's having a kip somewhere on a bench. We've managed to slow him down and give him enough Draught of Sleep to knock him out."

"We should be given an Order of Merlin," George said. "Prevented a serious murder from happening."

Bill and Charlie only raised their eyebrows over at Fred and George.

"What did you do that made Percy turn into a homicidal psychopath exactly?" Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow and his head cocked to one side.

"We said we were sorry!" Fred and George immediately defended themselves. "Plus, _Lee_ did it! Not us!"

"See, Lee thought it was funny how—you know how sometimes, Percy's dodgy leg starts to get really big and swollen and it's _obvious_? Well, Lee reckoned to try something. We didn't know what he wanted to do, but we were on board and he tried to see what would happen if he tried to _Engorgio_ Percy's dodgy leg when it was all swollen," Fred explained the situation and then closed his eyes. "And, um..."

"Percy's trousers ripped," George nodded his head. "And Penelope let him borrow something of hers."

"I told him all the pink matched his complexion," Fred said. "And then he chased us down the train with our Beater's bats. Honestly, Charlie, you should've seen the way he was swinging!"

George was now fully grinning. "Our little Percy has it in him to be a Beater."

"Where is he?" was all that an exasperated Bill replied.

Charlie, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow and asked, "How good are we talking?"

Ginny was obviously very interested in hearing that too. Fred and George made lucid comparisons using famous Quidditch players as they wandered over towards one of the benches. Speaking of lucid Quidditch comparisons, Percy's exceedingly bright vibrant pink trousers made him look like part of the Quiberon Quafflepunchers. It was a miracle that Percy hadn't attracted any Fwoopers as of yet. Bill slowly attempted to unsuccessfully wake Percy up, and sighed before pulling him to his feet. That was when Bill accidentally let go of Percy and Percy's face met the pavement. Needless to say, _that_ definitely woke Percy up.

He sat up and then looked up at a blushing Bill whom was grinning sheepishly. Percy's glare could've turned no doubt turned Bill into stone.

"I am in a foul mood," Percy said. It was like saying the sky was blue, or that the Chudley Canons couldn't win a Quidditch match if they'd bathed in Felix Felicis the night before and the rest of the players of every other team got sloshed to sickness. "If anyone attempts to talk to me, I will get Hermes to eat them. Do not doubt me. I've put him on a diet. He's only had an owl treat today and..."

Fred snorted and noticed how Bill's eyes were furrowing.

"...three custard creams, the smallest bite of Adrian Pucey's chocolate frog... maybe one snail or two..."

 _'ARTHUR, Arthur, **Arthur** ,_' a voice said as soon as Arthur was conscious of where he was, but he wasn't. He was walking in the absolute downpour. His tattered Ministry of Magic cloak was completely soaked. The suit that he was wearing underneath looked even more mangled than it did this morning (anymore and the threads would dissociate and he'd be stood naked). The package that Penelope had given him was still dry which meant that it was charmed not to become wet. His too-big-for-him boots were flooded with rain. He could vaguely hear Molly tell Ron not to go out in the rain because no matter how hard he tried, it did _not_ qualify as a quick bath. _'You should really spruce up this place every once in a while. I've been in many bodies, but I haven't had a meat suit as sad, pathetic and scraggy as yours in a while. Do some Quidditch, old man. Put on a few stones. I've seen birds sacrificed to Zeus that have more meat than you do.'_

 _Who are you?_ Arthur's head felt heavy. He was walking, but he had no idea where he was going. He tried to stop walking and found himself completely unable to. Was this how being under the Imperius felt like? He shuddered at the thought and the cold rainy weather. _Get out of my head_.

The next two minutes ensured Arthur calling the voice as many colourful insults as he could.

 _'Are you done talking, Arthur? My, my, the things you've called me. It's made me wonder what you'd do to yourself if your children come to you sprouting this sort of language. You best behave yourself. Your frail mortal soul cannot defeat me. You cannot weasel out of this, **Weasley**.'_ The voice was reminiscent of Lucius Malfoy when he had one over on him. He doubted Malfoy would call him a 'mortal soul', no matter how big his ego grew (nowadays, it was large enough to have its own Ministry of Magic.) _'Oh please spare me your imprudent thoughts. If I wanted to be a man with elf hair, I would look for your eldest son.'_

 _Bill?_ Arthur had lost sight of where he was. He was thinking too much to notice where this man was taking him. He was stood by a lamppost. _Don't you dare go near any of my children._

 _'Yes, yes, because you're going to stop me with the power of your dangerous mind! You'll show me memories of your wife naked until I beg Hera to save me!'_ that comment made Arthur's blood boil, but at the same, his spine tingled. He felt more than a little chilly and was soggy enough that he supposed he'd just get dragon pox and die before he made it home— _if_ he made it to the Burrow. ' _Oh, being in your thoughts is excruciating. Do you know that all you subconsciously think about is your wife and children? If I wanted to hear this rubbish, I'd talk to Aphrodite.'_

 _Hera? Aphrodite?_ A dazed Arthur inquired.

 _'Are you mortals really this dense? Yes, **Hera**. My mother—and aunt. **Aphrodite**. The Greek Goddess of love—who opened her legs up for anyone that promised her eternal joy. Had enough children that Zeus insisted on banishing half of them. The first children he tried to banish **had** to be mine on the basis that my sons are the personifications of **dread** and **fear**. At least my daughter is literally inescapable. I have other children of course, but I'd rather spend my whole existence being punished than admit that those foul things that preach love and harmony are **my** children. Talk about disappointments.' _

_Ares?_ Arthur managed to connect the dots. At least that was what he concluded based on the information that he was given. Did he really think that he had his mind taken over by a Greek God? No.

 _'Why are you all the same? Demanding proof. Percival is the same. Always 'prove it that you're the God of war'. What happened to taking my word for it?'_ Arthur was stood alone in the rain and he pulled up his wand to his head.

 _Percy?_ was his last thought. It hadn't even percolated to his head why he'd had his wand to Arthur's head.

"Avada Kedavra," came out of his mouth and... Nothing happened. This was followed by a "Crucio."

Arthur felt nothing but a numbness in his fingertips and a sickness in his stomach. He was alive, and he was not in the worst pain in his life.

 _'Greek Gods don't die because of a little green light, Arthur,_ ' Ares mentioned in a honeyed voice. _'As long as I'm in this body, you're just about as immortal as I am. Good for you, but I'm only staying here for a little while. Do you want to hear about my dangerous and dark plans?'_

Arthur didn't think he had a choice. He started walking again, but his mind wasn't on where he was going.

 _'I want to ascend back to Olympus with **Percival's** body, kill my father—with the help of other Gods, of course. I'm not that overconfident that I think I could kill allegedly the most powerful God in Olympus—then I'll start a war! A good one for old time's sake. Give gifts to those I promised to give gifts to. Then, by that time, the Oracle told me your second war will be done. Considering I love watching wars as much as I love starting them, I won't interfere until Harry bloody Potter saves the world once again. I would've done this much earlier, Arthur, but I blame Athena. Always trying to give the vessels I choose to ascend with a gift.'_

Arthur could barely digest any of the information he was told

 _Percy..._ Arthur thought. _Why do you want Percy?_

There was a second wizarding war to be happening in the near future and Harry was going to save them again? This despicable God wanted to use _his son's_ body to ascend to Olympus for some unknown reason? Why couldn't he have just done now? Instead of taking Arthur's body. He seemed to have no qualms about putting Arthur on his holy version of the Imperius curse. And Athena?

 _Leave my children alone,_ Arthur sounded out. _A gift? What gift? **ATHENA** gave Percy a gift? _

Arthur was sure if the Goddess of wisdom gave Percy a gift... Arthur would know about it!

 _'Yes, a gift. Your son's **epilepsy** is Athena's **gift** to him. Supposedly, it's to **help** him. I'm sure the answer to how it's supposed to help him is masked by enough riddles to makes a Sphinx vomit,'_ Ares continued, sighing in deep displeasure and irritation. _'I thought it was because she was attempting to tarnish the vessel to prevent my ascent to Olympus. However, I have ascended with epileptic vessels before. In fact, all the vessels that I have my eyes on end up developing 'wizarding epilepsy'—which should be renamed as Athena's gift... or curse. They normally die off **much** before I could even make it through the gates. Weak foul little creatures. Athena, however, is not the kind to allow others to be sacrificed. She actually cares about these pitiful mortal lives. She is more likely to plant seeds and wait for them to grow, and not intervene when they're being torn. I bet she could destroy the Garden of Alcinous in less than a day.'_

Arthur couldn't even his mouth to reply. He had never been under the Imperius before, so he didn't know if this was how it felt like. It was the only thing he could akin this experience to. He'd spent a good ten minutes in the beginning, attempting to break free... Arthur bet he would find it easier to apparate within Hogwarts, or one day, find himself stood as the Minister of Magic a year from now!

 _My son's fits are a gift?_ Arthur's head was throbbing. _I thought you were Greek. Why do you sound British? _

_'That's your big question?'_ Ares laughed and Arthur shuddered. _'I've been living here for the past few centuries ever since a row I've had with Zeus. It's hard **not** to get one of those horrid accents in the time being.'_

He looked up. He noticed that he was home. The Burrow seemed more vibrant than he'd ever remembered—he could nearly smell the wood it was made out of from where he was standing. The rain stopped. Arthur didn't know how he'd gotten here. He could smell his wife's supper. He could hear the sound of Ginny's laughter even standing this far off. His clothes, once wet, were now dry. The parcel that Penelope had given him was tucked safely under his arm.

 _'Do you know what I'm going to do to Percival, Arthur?'_ Ares asked, chuffed. _'I'm going to turn him into me. I'll make you proud of him. I'll make you proud of how he could tear the universe in less than a week. I promise.'_

 _My son_ , Arthur began, his voice clear and concise, _will **never** become like you_.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

* * *

The Weasley family was stood wandering about market stalls round Diagon Alley.

Molly had bought enough oranges to trigger George's gag reflex. He still continued to refuse fruits and vegetables in a similar fashion that a Potions Master refused to allow Ashwinder eggs to thaw.

Bill had found another animal he wanted to wear, much to Charlie's delight and Arthur's chagrin.

How much did Bill really think manticore fur _cost?_ Maybe if they sold the house, the chickens, took out every Knut in their Gringott's vault and found a bicorn to sell for three magic beans, they'd be able to buy three centimetres' worth!

Ron and Harry were mentioned every time that Molly saw a particularly nice shade of blue for a jumper for Harry or a scarlet or orange for Ron. Arthur was sure Ron and Harry had three jumpers sent to them already.

He was also sure that last time, Ron sent a letter mentioning he had a _"diaper rash but on my stomach."_

Percy said something akin to _'I think what Ron's complaining of is a fungus'_ to which Fred and George replied: _'don't think of yourself as a fungus, Perce.'_

Arthur, Bill, Charlie and Ginny laughed and Molly scolded them. Now, she flat out refused to talk to them as she scurried about in search of vegetables on discount. She'd been trying to shove down aubergines and courgettes down their mouths for weeks now, claiming something about important 'nutrients' in vegetables—apparently, this was all down to her copy of _Witch Weekly_ , which Charlie cursed every day.

Oh, and in the past two minutes, Percy had vanished into thin air, but Arthur was sure that he was lost in the heavy crowd that was focused on purchasing Christmas gifts. Given the fact that Percy might as well be a floating head considering how thin he'd gotten recently, Arthur hadn't really thought to look for him.

 _'Where did he go?'_ Ares inquired. _'He was just here three seconds ago!'_

 _I don't know,_ Arthur replied in severe annoyance. _Aren't you all-seeing? Don't you have an Oracle?_

 _'What do you mean you don't know where he is? He's your son!'_ Ares hissed. _'And I'm not the one with the Oracle. That's Apollo and we do not speak of that cowering traitor. I did, however, borrow the Oracle in a time of desperation.'_

 ** _Borrow_** _the Oracle of Delphi?_ Arthur spat out in irritation.

 _'I'll give it back eventually,'_ Ares mumbled. _'Come on, Arthur. Cheer up! Are you **still** mad about last night?' _

Last night, Arthur had wanted to do... _something_ with his wife, but Ares had decided that it was too revolting and meaninglessly torturous for himself to even bear to witness.

 _'Oh shut it, old man,'_ Ares hissed. _'You've probably slept with her enough times to re-procreate Olympus.'_

Arthur then caught sight of Percy stood beside one of the quill stalls. He was trying out a silvery quill on a piece of parchment paper, and furrowing his eyebrows at the result.

Arthur (but not Arthur) grabbed Percy by his shoulders and violently pulled him backwards, spilling (probably extremely expensive) silvery ink all over Percy's black winter robes. Percy let out a yelp of surprise, followed by an expression of confusion.

 _What are you—?_

Before Arthur could finish that thought, he suddenly saw three large black arrows hit the wood, just right where Percy was standing there only seconds before.

Arthur was stunned and found himself panting heavily, wrapping his arms protectively around Percy and pulling him in for a rare embrace. He buried his head into Percy's hair, noticing Percy's eyes were absolutely glued to the arrows. _Godric_. _What's just happened? Who's trying to get my son killed?_

 _'Do you want a list?'_ Ares mumbled. _'Artemis is around. This is good—for me. She's never interfered with my plans before. Maybe there is something to your son that screams 'this is a vessel that can overtake Olympus'.'_

 _"OH, THANK MERLIN!"_ Molly had jumped up and ran to Percy, grabbing him by his arm and pulling him to her short frame. She tried to inspect for any entry wounds, and looked relieved that he was in one piece. "Are you alright? Are you alright? Oh, _Arthur!_ I don't know how you could've possibly known..."

Arthur's cheeks coloured in deeply. "Um..."

Molly smiled brightly at Percy. "If your father hadn't been there, Merlin himself could only guess what would've happened to you," she obviously had him entangled in a deathly grip.

"Yes..." Fred and George were looking suspicious. They had their eyebrows arched. "Funny thing that."

"What are you two going about now?" Charlie's lips were pursed tight.

"Nothing," Fred said. "It's just—"

"—funny that Dad knew the exact moment to save Percy from being a permanent resident in St Mungo's," George finished off with a look.

"Come off it, you two!" Molly exclaimed, looking insulted. "Your brother's safe and that's all that matters!"

Arthur's eyes were on Percy's traumatised expression. He was particularly silent. It wasn't everyday that you nearly got hit by an aggregate of archaic arrows now, was it?

"Dad, how _did_ you know that someone was trying to make meat skewers out of Percy?" Ginny asked.

Arthur (not Arthur) explained. "I saw a wizard with a bow and arrow on top of that building right over there," he pointed his finger towards the direction of a very large building where Arthur assumed Ares _did_ see Artemis in, "well... I actually saw him reflected in Percy's glasses."

"Wow," Charlie decided, grinning coyly. "Those glasses are useful for something after all! Huh, Perce?"

"Besides, enabling me to see you mean?" Percy inquired quietly.

Percy turned around to walk away and was directly pulled by a black-haired grey-eyed bloke that looked most definitely had troll blood in him. The _smell_ of him! Arthur's eyes bulged out of his sockets when a slew of arrows hit the ground at the same time, forming a perfect straight line.

"Marcus?" Percy sounded surprised, and then noticed the arrows before paling significantly.

 _'Apollo,'_ Ares hissed darkly. ' _That self-righteous bastard took that deplorable part-troll as his meat suit?'_

 _'Marcus is not at all deplorable! Ridiculously intelligent actually, and—I asked before I took my meat suit!'_ Apollo replied in a scornful tone. _'Only lowly Gods have to take their meat suits by force! And give me back my Oracle!'_

Apollo—or Marcus—suddenly grabbed an arrow that was racing towards them, flipped it around and sent it soaring back. His hand was bleeding vigorously from where the arrow accidentally slipped into it.

 _'You're not a warrior, Apollo,'_ Ares mumbled. _'This is not your fight. Go back to eating dittanies and poppies.'_

Arthur finally managed to take a hold of Percy, whom immediately ran into his arms. Godric, he was so scared and pallid he looked no better than the ghoul.

"I think we've got all we need," Arthur immediately stated hastily. "I'll meet you all back at the Burrow!"

He grabbed Ginny too before apparating them to the Burrow. Ginny and Percy succumbed to the ground, sharing a bin. Needless to say, they weren't used to apparating.

It didn't take long until the rest of the family showed up, with looks of worry etched on Molly's face.

"Is everyone alright?" Molly called out, looking incredibly peaky.

" _I'm_ not the one who nearly got stabbed by arrows today," Bill mumbled, looking over at Percy, whom was slouched over the bin, vomiting up the crumpet and apricot jam he'd had that morning. " _Thrice_."

"I think I'll be in my room for the remainder of the day," Percy wiped off the remaining vomit from his sleeve, something he wouldn't have done in a million years if not for the fact that he was so frazzled and timid that his hair had come undone, back to its natural state of curly disarray and his eyes were watery.

"Sleep well, Perce," George managed to say, genuinely meaning it from the looks of things.

"Thank you, George," Percy said as he ascended upstairs.

"At least," Charlie said, leaning back the Weasley family clock, which Arthur had just noticed had Percy and Arthur's hands pointing at _Mortal Peril_ , not that anyone seemed to notice. "We've come home before mum's done her vegetable haul."

"SOMEONE wants to kill Percy," Fred concluded in a matter-of-fact voice, cocking his head to one side.

"But why?" George inquired, raising an eyebrow. He'd folded over the Marauder's map, and placed it into his rucksack. Fred knew that they were going to... _do_ _something_. Neither of them knew what yet, but whatever it was they were going to do, they were well prepared for it!

Fred shrugged, pulling up a ratty rucksack over his shoulders. "I don't know, but Flint seemed to know."

"Where does Flint live?" George asked, and then curled up his lip in concentration. "Do you think we could ask Bill to apparate us? He didn't look that keen on Dad's excuse."

"He's doubting Dad too," Fred nodded his head. "You know it _has_ been twenty-four hours since we've heard him go on about some muggle invention he just learned about... that's like twenty-four hours without Charlie mentioning that he'd once been bitten thirty-four times in ten minutes by a baby Chinese Fireball, and has the bodily evidence to prove it—or twenty-four hours without you eating a sweet bun."

George cracked a smile at the last bit. "Last night, I ate a normal one, Forge."

"The one that you've scoffed down with enough honey to attract an army of glumbumbles?" Fred snorted, only for George to beam. "Plenty sweet to me, Gred."

Fred still couldn't believe their father's story about Percy. They didn't know how this muggle physics worked, but he was sure that Percy's glasses couldn't reflect something that was _that_ far off. Sure, Percy's glasses were bigger than house elf ears, but it didn't mean that it was possible—besides, they'd seen Arthur Weasley play Quidditch before. That bloke couldn't react quick enough to save his glasses from being smashed repeatedly and often had Bludgers to the head even before the game began. Sure, he loved the game, but _Percy_ was better on _a broom_ than he was and that said something.

How was Fred supposed to believe that overnight, he'd regained Zeus'-lightning-fast reflexes?

What continued to tip Fred on was the clock. Arthur's and Percy's were both pointed towards _Mortal Peril_ , because that wasn't suspicious at all. Charlie tried to remind them that they were _this_ close to being slashed by arrows. Fred knew that the clock didn't work that way. It didn't rely on _post_ event; it relied on _during_ the event in question! Something was happening _right now_ and everyone's senses had been stolen by nargles!

Fred and George plopped downstairs. It was one in the morning, but Bill would be awake.

Bill had an aversion to sleep, much preferring to down any potion that kept him staying awake—and then, because his twelve O.W.L's reflected how much of sane, intelligent individual Bill was, he'd drink liquor with his mates like it was water to a grindylow. Usually, this resulted in his body melting down at the end of the week and him being found near comatose state for a day and a half. Molly would scold him for this routine, and then next week, he would do it again, and again, and he probably did it in Egypt. Fred could imagine Bill at the end of the week, he'd have fallen asleep inside a tomb by accident.

"Bill!" the twins exclaimed when they saw him sat on the couch with a complicated looking map on the ground. They didn't expect to see Charlie on the opposite end, having a read of a copy of _Which Broomstick_. "We need you to take us to the Flint manor to—"

"No," Bill said, staring back at the map before he picked up a quill and drew an _x_ towards one of the points.

"How's Percy?" Fred suddenly asked. They'd been locked in their room all day with their prototype of Skiving Snackboxes. Last time they'd attempted to try their 'flawlessly' designed Snackboxes was in the summer—one end made George sick and the other end sent him to St Mungo's for three weeks.

Charlie looked back up from his copy, which was decidedly the only time that Fred had _ever_ seen Charlie break concentration from a magazine. "He's in complete ruins. Mum's been trying to talk to him for ages. Hasn't come down for dinner— _again_. Mum said he can't get round with skipping dinner anymore. We can't even find him when he's wearing his bulky winter robes anymore because he's so bloody little."

George's smile dropped. "Come on, Bill."

Bill rolled up his map, and Fred felt a swelling in his chest. Success to say the least. When he had walked into his bedroom to set his map aside, George had explained that he wanted them to go to Flint's mansion.

Bill paused momentarily, nearly dropping his map. "You think that half-breed knows something."

George's cheeks coloured in deeply. He looked funny when he was blushing. He had that same face whenever any of the girls from the Quidditch team came round their table. "Well, we—"

"You should've said something before!" Bill cut George off. "You think the Flint's are up at this time? It's nearly two in the morning! Oh well, _I_ don't care. I'll wake that smarmy kid up from his bed if there's even a fragment of a chance he knows anything about why some bastard was trying to kill my brother."

Fred only grinned. It seemed that the nargles _had_ forgotten to take Bill's head with them. Maybe it was too heavy after getting twelve O.W.L's.

APPARATING to the Flint manor, thirteen-year-old Fred Weasley spent five minutes trying to keep his insides... _inside_. George was less successful. Fred thought it was probably because he'd nicked Percy's pudding that night ( _"he won't eat it!"_ George huffed, as he sunk his teeth into Percy's flapjack. _"He doesn't eat anything! Besides, if you're coming off not eating after a few days, you probably shouldn't be having this much delicious food in one setting. Perce might have a deadly orgasm!"_ flash forward to Fred nearly choking on his pumpkin juice at the thought of Percy having _any_ kind of orgasm, deadly or not.)

Before Fred was going to knock on the door, Bill grabbed his wrist and pointed towards a piece of parchment paper that was spello-taped to the door. ' _This is no longer the Flint residence. Stop asking me about any one of these sods. I don't know them. Here's the reference address if you want to contact them and no, I do not know if they use the Floo network or not. Pop down for a chat and most important, leave me alone! I don't care about your broken bones.'_

Bill seemed to memorise the address in a split second before grabbing George and Fred's shoulder again and they apparated again. This time by the time that they'd hit the ground, both of them were vomiting. Flashbacks of testing the Skiving Snackboxes swirled in Fred's head. He looked up to see Bill standing there with his hands in pockets, looking to be in deep dismay.

"This is their house?" Bill shook his head. "Bloody hell."

Fred looked up and was surprised to see a tiny little house that was smack in the middle of nowhere. He was suddenly hesitant to talk to anyone, but had knocked on the door anyway. They continued to knock incessantly until three black-haired girls opened the door. One had curls that were so tightly coiled that each one resembled a Knut. Another one beside had hair that was reminiscent of a rabid three-headed dog named Fluffy (if such a thing even existed). The third one had hair so straight that there was no questioning its sexuality. The curly-haired one immediately pulled out her wand and pressed it up against Bill with a look of darkness.

"I haven't seen this much red since the first wizarding war," Curly decided, raising an eyebrow. "What do you want? And be _very_ careful about your choice of wording, Weasel, before you answer that question. I'll have you know I'm a fully qualified and trained Auror and I—"

Rabid Dog Hair only offered a bright grin. "Come on, Marceline. They're _harmless_. They look closer to admitting themselves into St Mungo's for severe apparition sickness than they are to attack."

"Shut up, Morgan," Curly... _err_ , Marceline said. "Well? Answer me!"

Fred didn't know what to find more surprising – the fact that these girls were probably going to be up for a while, the fact that they thought that they were there to ambush them (if they did, they wouldn't be _knocking on doors_ ) or the fact that Flint's parents had children before they had him.

Weeding through the trio was Marcus, whom looked particularly short next to his sisters. He was covered in enough mud to stimulate Molly's _I'm a mother with seven children. Step back. I know enough cleaning charms that by the time that I'm done with him, his hair would whiter than Dumbledore's_ reflex. Apparently, Marceline had this reflex because she pulled out her wand and assaulted Marcus with every cleaning charm known to mankind. Fred realised the outcome smelled like Arthur Weasley's terrifying, never-speak-of-ever-again attempt at making a cottage pie mixed with a potion from Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions. Fred supposed this was as clean and as pleasant-smelling as part-trolls could get.

"Are you looking for flobberworms to put into mum's hair _again_?" Straight Hair said, shaking her head.

"She started it," Marcus mumbled, eyes locked on the Weasley brothers. "What do you want?"

"First you're fraternising with Gryffindor's and now, you have them coming to visit you at three in the bloody morning?" Marceline spat out in distaste. "I don't know what to fucking say. Should I scold you for bringing these prats into our house, or say _'at least it's not Oliver bloody Wood'?_ "

"Leave Wood out of this," Marcus hissed, walking out of the house and gesturing for them to follow him.

Bill, Fred and George followed soundlessly, as Marcus walked towards a tree and then planted his arse over there. He grabbed a twig and started to push round rocks to look for flobberworms.

"You won't believe me," was all that Marcus said.

Bill raised an eyebrow. "We didn't even—"

"You aren't here to ask about _my_ well-being. I'm not _that_ stupid," Marcus huffed bitterly, putting his twig aside. "You're here to ask about _Percy_ , and how I knew that someone wanted a few arrows impaled through his big fat head—and I'm telling you that you won't believe me."

"Flint, _you_ don't get to decide whether or not we'll believe something," George reminded him.

Marcus pulled out a piece of parchment paper and handed it over to Bill.

Bill looked to be invested into reading this, and Fred and George peeked. They were quicker to read than Bill (they had to be to be able to pull off some of the pranks that they did) and as the information sunk into Fred's brain. Ares? Apollo? Artemis? _All other Greek Gods that started with an A?_ This was some kind of a bloody joke. Maybe Flint thought to brush up on his Greek history and couldn't get past the _A_ section!

Fred couldn't help but laugh. He looked down and noticed that Marcus was looking completely serious, as he snuck a few flobberworms into the pocket of his oversized dragonhide jacket.

"The truth, Flint," Bill threatened, his eyes dark.

"That _is_ the truth," Marcus mumbled, poking at the grass with his dirty, long twig.

"We're supposed to believe that Apollo _borrowed_ your body this morning? And that Dad is being controlled by Ares, whom is actually after _Percy?_ Oh, and Ares wants to ascend to Olympus using Percy as a _vessel?_ Percy _crawls_ up stairs sometimes because he can't stand up! _He still uses a nightlight because he's scared of the dark!"_ Bill sounded incredibly incredulous. "What a load of rubbish! I'm more likely to believe that Percy's somehow angered a heliopath and it was trying to kill him!"

"Flint, we're not as stupid as you are," George mumbled. "Wait... Percy still sleeps with a nightlight?"

"I feel like I've just had tea at the Lovegood's," Fred was rubbing his temple.

Every time he'd been invited in for a bit of tea, he'd ended up leaving the house feeling his head throb because of all the bollocks that the Lovegood's tried to shove in all at once. He, too, felt this way when he and George decided to binge-read copies of _The Quibbler_ just for the sake of it.

"I told you that you wouldn't believe me," Marcus reminded.

"Yes, because what you're saying makes about as much sense as a Rita Skeeter article,'' Fred expressed, tossing a look back over at Bill, whom was silent for the most part. "Come on, Bill. Let's go home."

APPARATING back home wasn't as painful as Fred thought it would be. On a feeling of impulsiveness, Fred grabbed the Marauder's map out of George's rucksack. He hadn't really used it for weeks, but a thought was nagging at him. Fred had unrolled the map, and had a proper look before poking at George's shoulder. George lost all rosiness to his cheeks as he took it in...

According to the map, the bloke lying down beside his mum was indeed Ares.


	40. Chapter 40

_**note** : this fanfiction is not dead! however, i want to tell you that this whole thing comes to **58 chapters and an epilogue.** that's right, i've finished it! so expect it go to back to weekly update format. none of these 2 week gaps. in fact, expect an update this  Thursday or Friday (i do have to attempt to reread through these, you know.). also, i hope i expect some feedback for the past few chapters! it's quite discouraging not to receive much._

 _and here is where ALL the warnings start to make sense. **the warnings again are: i solation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**... that 'God know what else i decide to put in last minute' includes **suicidal ideation (possibly an attempt may it be successful or not later on), mentions/possible illustrations of self-harm and a mention of sexual assault (Penelope and Roger).**_

 _after this chapter, there's another big time skip. Percy will probably stay at that age for the rest of the fanfiction. i've only kept him at 15 for 13 chapters versus him being 11 at 26. so only "half the time" but this is going to be **extremely** morbid if i keep on going for more than 1-2 chapters. in the upcoming chapter, Percy will be **21** , so that is **a SIX year time skip**. if no one has figured that one out yet, it's because it's round the age that Percy was when the war had just ended. it ended in May 1998, but Percy was 21 because his birthday is in August (this actually took me a second to realise when i was doing the maths on an Excel spreadsheet.)_

 _things should start seriously falling into place now. i would say the only thing that hasn't been explained is Athena's gift. otherwise, i believe that Ares' motives are clear. the love for the war that Percy had mentioned when he was drunk to his mum was no random tidbit of information. it's a **major** story line._

 ** _also, you may or may not (hopefully, may!) notice that Fred is alive for some reason. aye, i sort of wrote the first draft on the basis that he'd been alive. it is an AU, so it still works. this fanfiction is heavy enough _without _the added "Fred is dead" plotline that the original story follows. it would be too much of a hazard for me to fit in with the density of the plot (even if it_ does _fit in)._**

* * *

Chapter Forty

* * *

"Father, can you please tell me what needed me to do that was _so urgent_ that I couldn't have found something more appropriate to wear?" Percy mumbled, attempting to rub the sleep from his red-rimmed eyes.

They were now stood in the middle of Diagon Alley and Percy was being gawked at because he was in his footed pyjamas (the one with the whizzing broom and soaring stars pattern). These pyjamas happened to have a hole conveniently located at Percy's arse and showed off his dashing choice of bright blue underpants.

Arthur genuinely did _not_ know why in Godric's name they were doing here. Ares literally shook Percy awake and they'd apparated away to Diagon Alley before Percy could wipe away the drool from his mouth.

Now, they were stood there and Arthur couldn't come up with an excuse other than ' _we're shopping for your mum's birthday! Which is in October!'_ and this was why Arthur Weasley hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw.

Another reason for why he hadn't been sorted in Ravenclaw was because Fred and George suddenly popped out of nowhere, looking particularly murderous. From what Arthur saw, they had heavy-looking tattered rucksacks and Fred was holding Percy's copy of _Prefects Who Gained Power_.

"I suppose your 'urgent matter' is related to the fact that you're going to bury me in Diagon Alley in the dead of the night. I see you're honouring me by burying me with my favourite book," Percy mumbled in revulsion. "However, next time you plan my funeral, I suggest you await until I've had a proper night's sleep and am not wearing the most distasteful choice of underpants known to mankind."

Fred seemed to suddenly notice the bright blue and smirked. "Guess you don't need a nightlight with underpants like that now, do you, Perce?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "Must you humiliate me at _three in the morning_?"

Arthur hoped that this would be one of the moments where Ares would spit out a logical answer to Percy's questions—because Percy _will_ ask again what they were doing there and how 'urgent' this business really was. This did _not_ happen because apparently, Greek Gods of war loved watching Arthur make a fumbling fool of himself in front of his most articulate son.

"Percy?" a female voice broke Arthur out of his thought process and he turned to notice twenty-three-year-old Audrey Brown, a nurse that had once attended to Ron's terrifying case of dragon pox when he was much younger, standing there... and attempting not to break into hysterical laughter. "Um... very nice underpants. It brings out the complete lack of genuine emotion in your eyes."

Arthur thought he _must_ be dreaming, because the drowsiness in Percy's eyes had just disappeared and his entire face _lit up_ like a child that had just seen how many presents were under the Christmas tree.

 _"Audrey,"_ Percy sounded like he'd been practicing Quidditch for hours.

"Percy?" Fred poked at Percy's arm, and he didn't seem to notice.

She blushed as she passed him by, trying to suppress a beam that had found its way to her lips.

"Percy?" George was the one that called out Percy's name this time. "Perce?"

"Hmmmm?" was all that Percy said, still staring over at her form until he could no longer see it. He seemed to have somehow forgotten that he was making googly, glossy eyes round his father and his twin brothers.

 _' **I** didn't know he was volunteering to shag nurses,'_ said an amused Ares.

 _He did not,_ Arthur said. At least he didn't think that Percy had slept with her.

Still, staring at how they were looking at each other like any moment, it wasn't hard for Arthur to realise that Percy _liked_ her. And _she_ liked _him_. Arthur would have to be blinder than a vampire in bat form not to see it. _Brilliant_. He knew that there had to be something like this coming up. Percy was too well-behaved and un-Weasley like. It had to have happened. Arthur was sure Percy was bound to do something extraordinarily irrational and marginally commendable but _this_ was—

 _'Oh shut up, Arthur,'_ Ares mumbled in annoyance. _'If I wanted to hear this bollocks, I'd visit Aphrodite.'_

"How was it, Perce? Snogging her face off?" Fred asked with a smirk, noticing how Percy seemed to be in his own world, planning to have red-haired bossy children with like himself with Audrey no doubt.

Percy seemed to come back to reality with that comment. "I did _not_ snog her face off."

Arthur watched Ares pull out his wand whilst they were bickering about it. Fred and George were grinning and Percy's cheeks had taken onto a bright red colour.

 _'You won't have to have me round for much longer, Arthur. I'm going back to my **original** vessel, the one I've had for the past few decades.' _ Ares expressed smoothly. _'It is far better than this frail, insubstantial body—though dare I say, I hope you forgive me for what I'm going to do.'_

Arthur's heart was pounding so hard. He had never attempted resisting Ares as hard as he did then. He focused every molecule of his being to somehow drop the wand, yell Percy to run off, apparate them home or even do as little as _blink_ when Ares was in his body.

His resistance was futile and did nothing but exhaust Arthur. His body was not his anymore.

His children were sat there, talking about something trivial, completely distracted and Arthur _knew_ that Ares was going to do something to destroy that. He knew it—and as hard as he tried, he was too weak to do anything about it. This made him feel ill.

Arthur (but not Arthur) called out a spell that Arthur had never heard of before, but it was seemingly innocuous enough. Fireflies started to burst from Arthur's wand, littering the sky, as vibrant glittering bright lights. There seemed to be _thousands_ of them! It was a wonderful sight to say the least.

"Look, Perce!" Fred exclaimed. "Nightlights in case you're scared of the—"

George tapped on Fred's shoulder. "Dad," his face was completely serious. "What was that for?"

Arthur (but not Arthur) immediately lunged and grabbed onto Percy's arm tightly to prevent him from fleeing, and Percy seemed to be attempting to get out of the grip as best as he could.

 _What are you doing? Let go of him,_ Arthur didn't know what this display exactly was leading up to, but seeing Percy becoming visibly stressed made Arthur's stomach drop. This did not bode well for anyone.

 _"LET HIM GO!"_ Fred and George pulled out their wands, pointing it towards their father as Percy struggled.

Percy looked up at Arthur, tears brimming into his red-rimmed eyes. He looked like he was on verge of a mental breakdown.

Fred and George suddenly emptied their rucksacks. An _Engorgio_ was used on what looked like miniature books, which suddenly enlarged to their normal size. With an _Oppugno_ , the army of books flew towards Arthur, assaulting him and hitting him square in the nose but dodging Percy completely. The grip on his Percy tightened so hard that Arthur was sure he'd even heard a bone crack.

"What is going on here?" a dark-haired woman walked into their circle, just as Arthur (but not Arthur) sent the books sailing back without even calling out a charm. It _appeared_ as if the books had minds of their own. It looked like Fred and George's charm that had just backfired instead of Arthur casting out the spell himself. To others, he looked like a father that was just holding his son's arm back for some unknown reason.

The books smacked Fred and George violently, throwing them down to the ground.

 _"FRED!"_ a stressed Percy exclaimed. _"GEORGE!"_

"Percy?" Arthur sounded out weakly, stomach coiling into knots. _What are you doing? What in Merlin's name is going on here? Don't hurt my children. Don't you dare hurt my children._

 _'You'll know soon enough,'_ Ares explained. _'Goodbye, Arthur. It's been dreadful knowing you. Don't worry. I'll continue watching Percival from a far! Maybe one day, I'll have another task for you and we can meet again. Otherwise, I'm happy that I'm leaving this Merlin forsaken vessel. Maybe one day, you'll make the connection to who I **also** am.'_

Arthur could feel the heaviness in his shoulders disappear and the grip that he had on Percy loosening dramatically. The tension in his body disappeared...

Ares was _gone_.

The next thing that happened neither Arthur didn't expect—Percy fought back against the grip, grabbed Arthur's hand and _bit_ into it so hard that Arthur felt blood seeping out of his skin.

Arthur pulled his hand away and Percy ran off. Fred and George stood up and ran after him.

Percy had paused mid-way into his run, shoulders twitching and body stiff as he found himself caught in the midst of bright lit fireflies flying about. Fred and George grabbed his arms and attempted to drag him away from the scene. They knew something was going to happen. Arthur knew something was going to happen. He didn't know what, but _he knew_.

Arthur ran off after him, and noticed the vacant and blank expression encompassing Percy's face.

 _"Get away from him!"_ were all that a bruised Fred and George sounded out, but Arthur didn't listen.

He grabbed Percy's shoulders and shook him, but Percy didn't reply.

"Percival?" Arthur's voice was high with concern. What were these fireflies doing to him? He looked so white that Arthur wondered if his son was going to suddenly drop dead into his arms over _fireflies_.

Percy collapsed in the middle of the street and convulsed.

 _"PERCY!"_ Fred and George dropped down to the ground.

Arthur froze, feeling unable to process what was going on. Suddenly, Arthur was mildly glad that Percy had _bit_ him. The meagre pain in his hand helped cope with the guilt running through his veins because Percy _was convulsing in a public place_. Percy was going to have this as _the third fit of his life_. He _was going to go to the ward_. Percy Weasley was _done_ , and it was all _hisfaulthisfaulthisfault_.

"What've we packed for this?" an anxious George suddenly asked Fred.

The whole of Diagon Alley was circling around them now, almost waiting for something completely unbelievable to happen...

And it did.

"Is that _Pegasus_?" Fred suddenly called out, pasty faced. "Godric, if this happened any other time, it would be _so cool_. This isn't fair."

George's mouth was agape. "Shut up, Freddy."

Arthur looked up and noticed that a large winged horse was suddenly destroying market stalls and wrecking havoc. It went without saying that Arthur didn't know how to respond to the fact that his son had actually summoned _Pegasus_ to rip Diagon Alley apart.

He was sure that _shaking_ Percy whilst he was having a fit was a moronic thing to do.

"Percy, _stop!"_ Arthur exclaimed, cringing when others' screams sounded out. The horse had smashed what seemed to be a quarter of the stalls in that road in less than a minute. _"PERCY!"_

"Perce, you've got to—" Fred and George were cut off.

"Let me try, little lads!" an oaf that had more muscles than a dragon grabbed Percy and pinned him down to prevent him from convulsing. "Almost like he'd never had that fit in the first place, aye?"

"Except look at _that!_ " Fred exclaimed, pointing to where the winged horse had crashed into the window of a shop because he'd run out of stalls to smash.

Needless to say, this pining him down bollocks didn't work well. If anything, the horse was more frazzled and had began to fly into windows of buildings and smash his hooves on faux muggle mailboxes and lampposts round the road. It had probably been no more than five minutes and half of Diagon Alley was in ruins as Arthur watched men attempt to restrain the horse by restraining Percy. A few were holding his legs down, another holding his face down and a thousand _Stupefy's_ didn't seem to be helping any. Arthur would object to stunning Percy, but what else could they do? He was literally tearing apart Diagon Alley!

"Stop it," Arthur suddenly sounded out, his heart pounding. "He's _blue_."

"What do _you_ propose we do?" one of the blokes that had been trying to stun Percy had exclaimed.

Fred and George replied in unison. "How about _not_ stunning him when a stunner won't do?"

"Thank Merlin some Aurors have finally arrived!" a white-haired lady stated. "What are they doing _there_ with that breeding experiment gone wrong? They should be here with the blasted son of a—"

Arthur turned round to notice that Aurors were attempting to stun the Pegasus and felt his stomach flip.

"Oh, that's it!" a woman hissed out in contempt before she pointed her wand toward Percy and exclaimed, _"Crucio!"_ in front of a hundred people what with Aurors all about the place.

It definitely made an Auror sigh and grab her arm, pulling her away. That and it didn't do _anything_ , just like the rest of the spells that were used on Percy.

He looked up at his twins. "Fred, George, what you saw back there, it wasn't me. It was..."

"A Greek God?" George sneered, and then smirked. "Yup. We know. Flint told us. You look as hysterical as a big girl's blouse so I suppose that Ares has left the building, hasn't he?"

"Left it _after_ deciding to throw a _Confringo_ just before," Arthur said in contempt.

Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief as he turned Percy to his side, and unbuttoned the first few dark blue buttons on his pyjama top. This seemed to have let his son breathe a little better. Thank Merlin for that. He was looking far less blue than he had been a while back. There was a point where Percy turned into a shade of blueberry and turned into a real life Violet Beauregarde like in that muggle children's book!

"Mr Weasley, do you want to talk to me about this debacle?" a reporter suddenly thrust herself in front of him, and Arthur politely shook his head.

Arthur was sat here, paralysed by fear because his son was absolutely going to end up in a ward that would treat him less than a dirty mouse and this—this _lady_ wanted to ask him _questions_ about it? He turned to look down at Percy, whom hadn't calmed down as of yet and was still convulsing. How long had it been? Should he have been convulsing _this long?_ The five minute mark had passed and the fireflies had long scurried away.

"Do you want to bugger off?" Fred mumbled in annoyance to the reporter.

Arthur didn't even feel much better at Fred's comment. He could barely remember how he was just sitting here, crouched on his knees, attempting _not_ to do something inane and stupid that would probably hurt Percy more than help.

A thousand _Stupefy's_ did nothing to stop Percy, as he'd discovered. A deplorable woman tried to _Crucio_ his son—and all of this only seemed to anger the Pegasus, whom had inflicted bodily harm on a few Aurors and looked to be quite vicious. The blood on the street made Arthur ill and to know that Percy had done this made him feel weak. To know that Percy hadn't intentionally done this made him feel worse, because now, Percy would wake up with those childlike blue eyes and he'd have to hear it from the rest of the world.

"Arthur," Ayden Clearwater had slid beside him, his face pale and full of shock. "Is there no way of controlling that fit? If he continues any long, the whole task force would be brutally murdered by a horse."

Arthur just shook his head. He was... useless. All he could do was watch.

"I'm a healer!" a woman crouched down before him, placing her hands on his shoulders, which Arthur was _sure_ that she shouldn't have done when his body was still rustling about like it was. She seemed surprised. "Why can't I apparate him to the hospital? A wizard that is unreceptive to magic! Maybe we'd start swearing by him at some point! Merlin, this lad needs someone to write his autobiography!"

"He'd like that," Fred weakly mumbled. "But he'll probably hate the wording and rewrite it himself."

"And then rewrite it again," George added on, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

Arthur didn't know why Percy seemed impervious to magic either during his so-called fit. The thought was itching at the back of Arthur's mind, but because, _this_ may be why Ares had wanted Percy's body. This may be why he couldn't _just_ enter Percy's body. Maybe there really was something that wasn't right about Percy.

"Look at that!" the healer called out, and Arthur turned round. "Thank Merlin! We're saved!"

Most of Diagon Alley looked to be in a state. An army of Death Eaters couldn't do this damage in days to what the winged horse had done in what had to be only fifteen minutes.

Henry Wells seemed to have gotten a group of dragon tamers to restrain the horse. It was now sat on the ground to the side, asleep. Arthur would assume Sleeping Draught was somehow involved. Arthur hadn't been paying attention to how this had happened. All he did know was that Percy's convulsion was coming to a stupor, and then he just stopped. His eyes slowly opened up, full of drowsiness.

"We'll have the beast sent to Romania where they'll treat him like a dragon," Ayden suddenly said, as he sat down by Arthur. Well, treating him like any winged horse didn't help, so Arthur could see his point. "I think your son can be taken away to the hospital now."

Arthur nodded his head. Ayden didn't think. He _knew_. Ayden was _sorry_ , and Arthur didn't know what to say.

The healer had already apparated Percy awake, and that once-light solid substance in Arthur's stomach just transfigured itself to lead. He nearly felt like he couldn't apparate himself anywhere with how heavy he was.

"Thank you," was all that could come out of Arthur's tongue, as he grabbed the twins' hands.

THEY all apparated to the hospital together, finding an incredibly somnolent Percy being dragged away by a bunch of healers. They'd run after them in haste. Arthur wondered if the rest of the world could hear his heart pounding or the blood rushing to his head.

"This bloke feels hotter than Gilderoy Lockhart in a pair of skivvies," one of them said, laughing.

Percy looked back at her with a confused expression. _"Hmm?"_ and then cracked at the smile. If Arthur had to guess why, he'd assume it was at the memory of his one million copies of Gilderoy Lockhart's books.

Arthur didn't seem to find this funny nor did he find Gilderoy Lockhart in a pair of skivvies a delightful sight. Fred and George seemed to agree from how their facial expression contorted to repulsion. Percy had probably spiked a post-seizure fever; just like he had when he was a little nipper, and they were dragging him down the hospital like he was he was an old tattered blanket they were stuck with.

"Are they really taking him to death ward?" Fred asked, his entire face draining from colour.

"What's _that_?" George didn't like the looks of the door that they'd just walked in.

They were trailing after the healers—off into a secluded area. The corridor that they'd walked in was badly lit. There was another door at the end of the corridor. That ward was bloody separate from the rest of the hospital! That could _not_ be a good sign for how things were. Arthur halfway thought that it was a secret passage to Azkaban just from how rank this place was.

The corridor seemed to stretch on forever. Every step they took left Arthur shaking.

At the end of it, a brown-haired woman stood there with a stern look on her face. There were no desks, no chairs, and no names on the clipboard besides Percy's (well, _at least,_ he would get the attention his five-year-old self so desperately craved, Arthur thought morosely). Though it went without saying, Arthur did not want to leave Percy alone with these people. Speaking of Percy, he was going to go through the most terrifying experience of his life and at the same time, he was attempting _not_ to have a kip in the middle of it!

"No, no, no, you _can't_ ," Arthur suddenly sounded out. What was worse than this really? Azkaban? Was it?

Fred's lips were pressed into a tight line. "That's not fair! He's a prefect, you know!"

The stern-faced lady just rolled her eyes at Fred's comment. "Oh, yes, I've seen the error of my ways! I'll just let him go off because he's a prefect. It's not like he's absolutely torn Diagon Alley apart with the winged horse he'd summoned just from his uncontrolled magic! It's not like he's sent seven Aurors to St Mungo's just an hour ago, half of which have to stay for a fortnight to recover from the injuries he'd inflicted in _less than five minutes!"_

George flinched and Arthur looked at the twins. Merlin, he'd failed _all of them_.

"Can we at least see him being dropped off to his doom?" Fred asked in annoyance.

"Fine," the woman expressed. "You may accompany him into the unit, and then you're gone, but I assure you all that I will take good care of Peter—"

" _Percy_ ," Arthur corrected firmly.

Her eyes were hard with contempt as she stared over at Percy. Percy might as well be a misbehaved Kneazle, except for the fact that most people dotted on those vile things.

She wouldn't let Arthur, Fred or George in until after the others had confiscated their wands and put them away.

As she put their wands into a box, Fred started to shake Percy as hard as he could, his eyes filled with contempt, "Perce, Perce, _wake up_. They're going to ruin your life," he attempted to shake Percy as hard as he could but Percy seemed to be dreaming.

George shook him even more. "Make a run for it," and then dropped his tone down to, " _Bite her_."

At the last statement, Arthur's cheeks coloured in as he stared at his hand. A scab had already formed over the tiny cuts on his hand from where Percy had bit him.

Percy only drowsily nodded his head, and fell asleep whilst standing up.

The woman walked into another door and had her wand lit with a _Lumos_. Otherwise, the whole room was absolutely immersed in darkness.

Percy's eyes suddenly cracked wide open because if there was anything that Percy was terrified of; it was _the dark_. Seeing that look of absolute terror cross Percy's face implored Arthur to do something, no matter how inane or improbable or stupid it was.

Arthur placed his hand into Fred's rucksack and threw a dungbomb in the middle of the unit.

George immediately tore a woozy Percy from her weak hold, and attempted to make a run for it.

 _"Fred!"_ George exclaimed, throwing Percy towards him. Fred caught Percy, whom had nearly fallen on his arse and then dragged him out by his hips. It was too awkward for Fred to attempt to carry Percy any other way considering their startling height difference.

They realised the clear loophole in their plan soon enough. The woman had stunned Fred.

She grabbed Percy back by his elbow and violently shoved him into a room—well, _cell_. There was no window visible, which meant that this total eclipse was standard. Percy suddenly grabbed the bars and started to shake them as hard as he could.

"I'll let that one off with a warning, Mr Weasley," the nurse mumbled in annoyance. "Don't make this worse than it has to be. Your son nearly _killed_ people today. Don't they deserve a peace of mind? You must understand that your world does _not_ revolve around your epileptic son. You should be grateful that he's staying here until the Minister decides if he should've put your... _child_... on _trial_."

"Trial?" somehow, the thought hadn't occurred to Arthur. Percy didn't mean to do any of this.

"I've done _what_?" Percy's voice was watery and unclear.

The nurse looked back at him with a cold expression. "Don't look so bloody surprised, Percival. Most of your kind end up rotting in Azkaban for firing away Unforgiveables or for murder during a fit—or so, they used to. You're the only living case in of wizarding epilepsy in the world and we're not allowing you to run amuck, summoning winged horses round Britain."

The bars continued to rattle, as Percy ranted. "This is preposterous. This is unbelievable. This is _rubbish_ —"

She moved towards the—well, the _cell_ really. "These bars are charm and potion resistant so don't get any bright ideas. Breaking out of Azkaban would be easier. There will be a few nurses watching over you throughout the day." She turned to look over at Arthur. "As for you, Mr Weasley, I want to assure you that he will be fed and properly clothed. If he complies with his treatment, he will be out eventually. If he damages these bars somehow, you're the one that's going to pay the cost. _That is_ if there is no trial."

That made Percy stop shaking the bars as hard as he was. His hands dropped to his knees, which Arthur could barely see in such dim lighting.

"This is ludicrous," Percy sounded out, obviously awake at this point. "Please release me from this prison."

"Okay, I suppose you three are going to leave now," the irritated nurse stated, as she walked towards them. She pointed their wands towards them. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise," Arthur said in distaste.

"You cannot just leave me here!" it appeared to have downed on Percy that they were going to leave, because they had to leave. Arthur flicked his eyes towards the uneasy facial expression of Fred and George.

What could they do? Their dungbomb ploy wasn't exactly the best. Arthur knew that this ward was impenetrable by all forms of magic (and that was why fits were not as disastrous as they were out in the open), so even if they had their wand, he'd doubt he'd be able to break Percy out of there and escape without having the whole Auror task force running after their tails and threatening the Kiss every time that Percy took a breath out in clear English air. They'd be sent to Azkaban before the next day even dawned! Not to add on, they'd already broken the rules a thousand times tonight! Their luck was due to extinguish...

"Percy, I'm sorry," was all that Arthur could say.

 _"I'll be brilliant!"_ Percy suddenly exclaimed from where he was sat. "Alright, I admit it. I'm an awful son. I'm a terrible brother. I'm extremely ungrateful. I'm selfish, and I will never run off again... and the twins? I'll take care of them for the rest of eternity without another complaint! But—but—"

Percy's voice had come to a stupor. "You _cannot_ just leave me here."

"Percy—" Arthur was cut off.

"You can't leave me here," Percy grabbed his curls with his hands. "You _can't_."

"Perce, we _have_ to," Fred and George said in unison. Obviously, they'd racked up their brains and didn't have any plans at the moment. It wasn't their fault either. Arthur bet even Rowena Ravenclaw would need more than the two minutes that they had to come up with a reasonable plan.

"Enough of that," the nurse seemed to be agitated by their inability to just say goodbye. "We—"

"Please, do _not_ do this to me," Percy suddenly begged, visibly trembling. "I would genuinely prefer death."

 _"ENOUGH OF THIS!"_ the last thing that Arthur remembered was his heart racing again.

He'd felt like he'd been experimenting with illegal potions that made his heart speed and funny pictures coming into his eyes. He felt like he was one second away from disappearing into the core of the universe. He felt his whole existence just come down to the warm tingling sweat in his fingers and this one moment where his son was telling him that he preferred to _die_ and Arthur was just... walking away.

The last sound he heard was Percy sobbing recklessly, before letting out an ear-shattering scream.

"PERCY, Percy, Percy..." a sardonic voice bounced off the dim walls. "If only you answered my owls before! If only you took me seriously instead of chucking all my letters in the bin. If only you hadn't insisted on cutting off Medusa's head and setting it on _me_... if only you hadn't made one of my pets laugh itself to death! Then maybe I mightn't have resorted to this cacophony."

Percy could hear steps and feel a cold presence in his chest. He _knew_ that voice.

"Penelope is in no world Medusa," Percy offered flatly.

"Oh, you're just like your father," the voice stated, leaving Percy feeling deeply insulted. He was _nothing_ like Arthur. "Do you really skip all that vital information to attempt to save the graces of your women?"

"I do not have any _women_ ," Percy huffed. "And I'm not exactly the most desirable."

Percy wondered why he wasn't wallowing in self-pity and self-destruction anymore. He _did_ cry so much that his eyeballs were in risk of falling out of their sockets (similarly to some of the more... graphic... Hogwarts portraits. Ones that Percy had written letters about to Dumbledore, insisting that eleven-year-olds shouldn't be seeing such rubbish on a daily basis. He was sure he mentioned _psychological development_ and had crossed out _there's one with the pulsatile liver wants to shag the Boy Who Lived_.) Considering the fact that his father had thrown him here and the fact that he'd smashed Diagon Alley, he did not feel the least bit remorseful... which made him feel remorseful because he was not remorseful (quite backwards, wasn't it?) and he did not feel much hatred towards his family. At least it wasn't the _cauldron-will-explode_ boiling anger that it was an hour ago, where he insisted that the minute that he was going to leave the ward, he would somehow find it in his scraggy frame to break a family member's bones (maybe not Charlie).

"You're denser than a cauldron cake," the voice said. "How can you not notice that Penelope Clearwater is one step away from shoving love potions in your coffee?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "That is a false contention—"

 _"ENOUGH OF THIS!"_ he exclaimed. "Percival, it is me... _Ares!_ I've thought that a little trip down to the ward might make it easier for me to convince you of my horrid schemes to start a war for the ages. Do you believe me _NOW?_ Now that I've sunken so low as to use that lunatic you call a father as a meat suit! How grotesque! I cannot believe I was under the impression that I can garner useful information from that man!"

"What kind of information were you wishing to gather?" again, somehow, the main point seemed to slip past Percy's mind completely. An infant saved the wizarding world from total collapse and Marcus Flint saved him from being a shish kebab only hours ago. Nothing surprised him anymore. "Valuable information such as whether or not we have enough money to go to the Quidditch World Cup? Him attempting to calculate his week's expenditure and coming up with inaccurate figures? What about how to use a muggle fellytone _without_ tripping on the cable?"

Ares snorted. "No, I thought that perhaps I could garner something valuable on the basis that you visibly have daddy issues—"

"I do _not!_ " Percy disagreed. How was he forgoing the fact that he was going to be locked away into this cell until he somehow ceased having fits? "He started it!"

 _"SILENCE!"_ the Greek God roared.

"Your voice is oddly familiar..." Percy rubbed his temple. He knew that voice. He knew it! He had a theory given Ares' initial remarks but he did not want to think about it.

"Yes," Ares smirked, sounding pleased. "You remember me, don't you, Percival?"

Percy's face drained of colour. "Alec Lestrange."

"Yes, my initial vessel!" Ares said in contentment. "I made this vessel out of my chariot and helmet! I constructed it myself and timed it perfectly so that in the height of the first war, I would've been old enough to meet this supposed dark and dangerous wizard that is Voldemort," he rolled his eyes when Percy flinched and carried on, "and I did. He was a thing of beauty—but failure was inevitable. He has his second rising, but I am not interested in a man that has been beaten by an infant."

"Ah, I understand," Percy said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure that you're far better. You wait until they turn eleven before they make a fool out of you."

 _"THAT WAS A MISTAKE!"_ Ares exclaimed hotly, "I cannot control you, Percival. You are the only mortal whose magic affects me but... I do not want to destroy you. I want to befriend you. I want you will help amplify my abilities, and I shall do the same for you. You will help me destroy my father and then we will rule this world together. All the _war_ and the _terror_ we'd invoke..."

Percy shuddered, ripples of pleasure in his spine.

"Do you remember the war, Percy?" Ares asked. He must have been inching in closer because his voice was louder. Percy could hear the sound of his foot paddling onto the ground. "Of course you do. You _loved_ it. Your eyes lit up when you stared at your uncles' caskets. I was _there_. I remember."

"Stop it," Percy spat out coldly, lips trembling and tears burning at the corner of his eyes.

"Afraid of the only thing that will ever fulfill you, Percival?" Ares had asked.

Ares must be sitting beside him because Percy felt an instant coldness. He could not see anything. "You are not afraid of the dark. You are afraid of embracing it." Ares then ordered, _"Let it."_

 _"NO!"_ Percy called out weakly, but he _did_. His fingers tingled with delight and he felt a warmth most felt like when they were in their home as the darkness consumed him. Visions of fresh blood and rotting bone ran through his head. He could smell smoke and hear screaming. _Home_... but he would not enter because if he did, he would never leave. "No..."


	41. Chapter 41

**_i promised Thursday and Friday, but this week has been super busy. well, it's always super busy but the examination period is looming._**

 _the beginning of this chapter is a flashback scene involving Ares and Percy. Percy is 20 then. it's mentioned very vaguely in the beginning of the flashback, and then for the rest of this fanfic, i plan that he steadily increases in age, i.e. 22, 23, etc._

 ** _if you've read this far, then you know what the warnings_** _ **are**._

 _this was very interesting for me to write. i absolutely how **easy** it is to write the interaction between Audrey and Percy. i love how easier transitioning Percy from 15 to 21 than it was from 11 to 15. i've still a bit to edit and rewrite, but 20,000+ words were chucked out of the water. i did rewrite quite a bit. the original is **nothing** like this._

* * *

Chapter Forty-One

* * *

 _"Have you ever practiced Occlumency, Percy?" Ares asked an exhausted twenty year old Percy._

 _"I haven't even gotten my O.W.L's thanks to your interference in my life," a twenty year old Percy spat back in irritation as he crossed his arms over his chest. "But yes! Oh, I have! I've practiced an ancient art that takes most years to garner proper expertise in and managed to master it at the age of fifteen. Not even_ I _could break the shields that I've put up."_

 _"Your sarcasm aggravates me," Ares said in distaste._

 _Percy rolled his eyes, as he mindlessly kept on tapping against the filthy stony floor. A staff member was due to come by any minute to take away his breakfast tray—which was_ infested _with mice. There were no cold poached eggs for Percy that morning. Pitiful. "Wet toilet paper aggravates you."_

 _"No, it does not. It only repulses me," Ares huffed. "What are you thinking of?"_

 _"Breakfast," Percy expressed, eyes flickering back towards the tray. They were alone now, as they always seemed to be at around six in the morning. "Also, I do want to bring it to your attention—_ again _—that asking me what I'm thinking of will not exactly make you come off as ruler of the universe. It does, however, make you seem to be a desperate paedophile. You're a_ Greek God _, and you have to ask me what I'm thinking of. You're demoting yourself quite a bit here."_

 _Ares didn't seem to find Percy's statement amusing. "For someone that looks like they've ill with phthisis, all you seem to think about is breakfast, lunch and dinner."_

 _Percy raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side. "Well, I do typically think of breakfast at breakfast time."_

 _"From what I know from watching over you for the past year or so before I've thrown you into this ward to attempt to convince you to rule the universe with me—"Ares began, only for Percy to cut him off._

 _"Yes, and you've accomplished so much in the past five years in terms of convincing me to eradicate mankind," Percy mumbled, placing his hand out and allowing a large tarantula to crawl on from his hand to his shoulder. It was rather comforting to feel those fuzzy long legs rub against his rubbery skin. "Lad, I thought you were desperate when you started asking me what I'm_ thinking _of. The fact that you were stalking me for a year..."_

 _"I would harm your vessel if not for the fact that if there is one major imperfection in my vessel, I risk it not ascending to Olympus. I know that_ fits _don't quite do ruin it..." Ares mentioned. "When you will say yes to me, we will share this grotesque, emaciated body and none of it will be_ just _yours. It will be_ ours _."_

 _A thought came to Percy but he'd pushed it away._

 _"I believe this is the point where you tell me that you will not fall for my ruse, Percival."_

 _"I once crushed Ginny's Gwenog doll," Percy recalled. It had been nearly ten years ago, yet the memory was as vivid as the day that he'd done it. He could still hear her voice ringing in his head. "As I was ripping it apart, I felt a sense of satisfaction fill me like nothing before. Seeing Ginny upset made my stomach warm, and my heart tingle. I heard Bill and Charlie cursing out my existence, yet all I could think about was taking the actual Gwenog Jones in my hands and..."_

 _He shook his head. "I enjoy death. I love the war. I take refuge in others' suffering, even when I attempt to deny it. I will myself to watch chaos yet," he did not look up when droplets of water starting to hit the bridge of his nose, "I take pride in the fact that no matter what will happen, I_ not _allow myself to normalise it. It is not normal to dream of watching life dissolve by my hands. I will always treat it like a curse running through my veins."_

 _Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. "I will destroy myself relentlessly before I will allow myself to watch someone else's blood trickle from my hands."_

 _"Ah, there it is," Ares mumbled. "You reminding me that you will not allow me to seek sanctuary in your body."_

 _Percy rolled his eyes and then..._ **it** _happened. Ares had disappeared for a second because Nurse Snow had come with an envelope, the first and only bit of mail that Percy had ever received. Percy did not know later on that it required a_ lot _of paperwork to be able to send mail to him. As Percy read the owl, suddenly everything seemed to be clear and vibrant. He suddenly realised what Athena's supposed gift was. Things all seemed to come together in a tiny piece of parchment paper! Percy was banged harder than a Quidditch Player with a Bludger. The realisation was so sharp and quick, and real that Percy could barely digest it for the first five minutes. It tousled about in his mind, between his childhood memories, the smell of Ginny's new perfume, the button falling from Gwenog's eyes and the sound of Charlie's laughter._

 _Three hours later, the same thing came about again, but not because now, Percy_ knew _._ _"I will," Percy said._

 _"Yes?" Ares sounded surprised for someone that knew that Percy would eventually allow his love of the war and need for fulfilment to obscure his arguments against Ares' ploy._

 _"A year after I leave the ward," Percy decided. "You can have my body."_

 _"Oh, just_ brilliant! _" Ares exclaimed in annoyance. "You may never leave this ward, Percival. Not without_ my _help."_

 _"But I_ will _," Percy chided. "In fact, tomorrow, I will not have a convulsion." He'd had a fit every day since he'd been here, since they were purposely trying to induce convulsions in him until he stopped having them all together._

 _"Yes, and one day, you will somehow be able to turn this on me to save the universe!" Ares exclaimed ardently. "This is what you think you can do, isn't it, Percival? You think that you can somehow find a way to end me?"_

 _"I am_ not _saving the world," Percy said, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. "I am simply ensuring that you do not destroy it over a prolonged temper tantrum with your father."_

 _"It is_ not _a temper tantrum!" Ares argued._

 _Percy smiled weakly. Things were not what they appeared. Alec Lestrange was Ares. Harry Potter was You-Know-Who. Percy was... **Percy**. "Heed my words," Percy warned. "Tomorrow, I will _ not _convulse. Prefects do not convulse."_

 _"You cannot prevent yourself from convulsing," Ares told him in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "You cannot choose whether or not you will cure yourself from your fits. This is similarly to a bloody imbecile believing that through the power of thought itself, he could cure his disseminated dragon pox! Even Apollo cannot do this and he is the God of healing."_

 _"You're right. I cannot cure diseases," was what Percy replied with. "However, tomorrow, I won't have a fit."_

 _And Percy did not convulse the following day, or the day after, or the day after that day or..._

"PERCIVAL," Nurse Snow walked towards Percy's dimly lit cell. Candles were floating round, creating a somewhat glimmer round the cell. It was—if Percy could make a dreadful joke about it— _illuminating_.

"Madame?" Percy sat up straight from where he was lying down on the cold, filthy ground.

Nurse Snow did not look amused. "In the epileptic unit, we do not show our displeasure at our lunch by pulling our robes down and threatening to urinate on the staff member that has bought you this exquisite meal." She paused, and then added on in a clear and concise voice: "We also do not intensify or exacerbate this situation by mentioning that said staff member will not be so fortunate next time as there might be _other_ bodily fluids accompanying that urine."

Percy only smiled sheepishly at this. "Madame, I _did_ apologise."

"And then you took it back and swore at them for perfectly fine bit of vegetation they'd given you for dinner," Nurse Snow reminded him, her face remaining rigid and her eyes filled with a complete annoyance.

Percy's smile disappeared. "You couldn't have blamed me, Madame!" he huffed in distress. "I prefer it when my vegetables do _not_ attempt to eat me."

"And I prefer it when you do _not_ eat rats—again," Nurse Snow reminded him. Percy's cheeks coloured in.

 _Rat eater_ , Percy could hear Fred and George teasing him in his mind. _Rat eater rat eater rat eater!_

"You have a visitor," Nurse Snow suddenly mentioned. "They've official Ministry papers, so I will let them in and you two have a nice chat now. We'll be off and won't be back until tomorrow."

"Pardon?" Percy echoed in complete surprise. "Did you just say visitor? As in... _not_ a staff member?"

Nurse Snow nodded her head. "Do not threaten to urinate on them, Percival. Be polite."

Percy nodded his head, attempting to contain his merriment—which then turned into absolute dread. "No, nobody can see me like this! I've had a tarantula that I was attempting to sacrifice to Zeus die on me this morning. I have been attempting to gently remove a small pin from a rat that has rolled himself in the mud. My arse is stuck to the floor because of some amorphous muck and thus, I fear that the floor has become a permanent body part and-and- _and_ —"

Nurse Snow quickly assaulted him with dozen or so cleaning charms in under than a minute and then hit by a very potent drying spell. "Stop whining, Percival," she said as he coughed out soap and lavender-scented bubbles. "You make me want to reach for strong pain potions."

"Likewise, Madame," Percy beamed. The chalky taste of soap was still in his mouth and he still felt a wet patch of something press against his neck. "Except _I_ am not allowed to take any pain potions."

He saw a flicker of a humour in Nurse Snow's eyes. Percy would hate to admit this, but he'd come to enjoy the company of this woman, even if she was forced to whip him round more often that he'd like to admit.

Now that he was cleansed, scrubbed and laved, twenty-one-year-old Percy looked down at his body and noticed that his skin was actually _white_... his spots were more obvious now much to his chagrin. He attempted to survey his face with his skeletal hands. According to the results of his investigation, he had a very, very _large_ spot on his nose. _Terrific!_ This was the first time he had a visitor in the last six or so years and he probably looked like someone had pinned Bill's scarlet Prefect badge to his nose!

Percy stood up from the corner, walking towards the bars. His dodgy leg ached immensely after a brick off the ceiling accidentally smashed into it last week when Percy was praying to Zeus for his safety. He supposed that Zeus found it amusing to hurt him rather than listen and reply to his prayers.

He _did_ somewhat steal Zeus' lightning bolt by accident when he had a fit... but that was not his fault! It was _Athena's_ bloody fault for her terrible taste in gifts!

Percy's eyes were about to bulge out of his sockets when he noticed a particular brown-haired, rosy-faced, full-hipped female walk towards him and immediately covered most of his face (and nose) with his hands.

Audrey's face was more waxen than a ghost. Her bottom lip was quivering, and she looked close to tears. "Percy. You look..." she shook her head, more tears dribbling down her pallid cheeks. "You look absolutely dreadful! I don't think I've ever seen anything so-so—"

Percy pulled his hands away from his face. "It's _just_ a spot! If I recall correctly, you had a very big one on your buttocks once. It was so large that I thought that it was an anti-decomposing charm gone wrong and now you have a very large tomato stuck up on your—"

 _"PERCY!"_ Audrey exclaimed frantically, waving her arms around in a rather frightened manner. "I don't care about your spot. Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?"

Percy pursed his lips. "Well, no," he replied in a genuine tone of voice. "I am not allowed to have mirrors, as I am prone to breaking them either during a fit or a dramatic mental breakdown."

Audrey pulled out a handheld mirror and then offered it to Percy.

Percy stared at himself and then cocked an eyebrow. "And? Other than that spot I was—"

"Stop mentioning that bloody spot! It's—"Audrey hissed back before taking back the mirror from him.

"It's _bloody_?" Percy went to investigate any sense of blood gushing out of it and felt relief when he saw none.

"—you!" Audrey exclaimed. "You look like you've just downed down Madame Primpernelle's stock of weight loss potions for the past six years! I've seen premature infants that have more weight than you. I wonder if this is what happens if a vanishing charm backfires and hits _you_ instead. On top of that, I think that I could see your miniscule heart beating in your chest."

Percy looked down at his chest. "That's _not_ my heart. That's just a golden snidget—"

"—a golden snidget?" Audrey looked like she was terribly close to vomiting. "Percy, you have a bird sitting on your chest? _UNDER_ your hospital robes?"

Percy then pulled his hand into the front of his gaping robes, and very slowly and carefully produced the golden-furred round, plump bird from his hands. "Yes, well, it _is_ a tad cold in here. My body is warmer."

"Well, you could shove it up a _much_ warmer place," Audrey huffed.

Percy's cheeks coloured in, because he supposed she was telling him to shove his little pet up his rectum. This was not a pleasant thought, even though a few vibrant images were flashing through his head already. "This is an endangered bird! I am _not_ shoving it there," he gently placed the bird back onto his chest where it quickly descended down to his ribcage. For such a fragile bird, it once broke two of his ribs.

"You're right. It is an endangered bird," Audrey said in surprise. "If the Ministry finds out you're in possession of that _thing_ , then you're going to be—"

"Oh, because the Ministry is going to be visiting me _here_?" Percy raised an eyebrow.

Audrey opened her mouth to say something against that, but she couldn't because he was right so she just shut her mouth. He was grinning because he seemed to have caught that notion too.

"You've changed," Audrey said, and Percy wasn't sure if she meant it as a good or bad thing. "Your _red_ hair is _black_ from _filth_ and seemed to have taken the consistency of a Fwooper's nest. I am almost absolutely positive that there is something moving in there. You're sitting on the dirty floor where the titles look like they could crack any minute and you would fall into the centre of the universe. You're hoarding an endangered species and letting it sleep on your chest. You look a skeleton that's just been dug up from the ground—in fact; I am severely surprised that you are even _alive_."

Percy's good humour had faded by then. "Audrey, I have been stuck between these four walls for six years. I have a Greek God that is attempting to convince me to destroy the universe, and every day at approximately five in the morning, I am escorted to the end of the hallway to have someone attempt to induce a seizure by flickering lights on and off until I lose consciousness. It is just a matter of whether or not I have a fit too!"

 _Rat eater, rat eater!_ The voices of Fred and George invaded his head again.

Audrey opened her mouth to speak. "So, the tumult about a Greek God is true? I've heard Fred and George mention it before. Not to me, but I've overheard them discussing it. I thought it was all just a fairytale."

"It is not," Percy explained in a stern voice. _Fred and George._ They'd done more than him no doubt! He had no O.W.L's or N.E.W.T's, and he was a twenty-one-year-old never-was locked about in a cage.

For the next twenty minutes, all that Percy had done was explain the situation to Audrey. He'd started with his tale as an eleven-year-old, mentioning details of his turmoil. Penelope Clearwater and Alec Lestrange, the manticore and Lucius Malfoy, his father, his father, his father... and the story evolved back into Alec Lestrange (otherwise known as the Greek God Ares), and his plot for world domination and obliteration. Percy allowed himself to mention his love for chaos and destruction (ashamedly as he stared at the ground, only for Audrey to reach forward to give him a touch on his shoulder. She'd seen him no differently, just like his mother did.) He allowed himself to tell her things that he didn't even know how he felt—the feeling of overwhelming dread sat in his stomach whenever he thought of his plan to prevent Ares from destroying the universe. Percy told her that a year after he left the ward, he would allow Ares to wear him as a meat suit. That was when Audrey snapped at him and he attempted to calm her down as best as he could, mentioning that he _knew_ what he was doing but he was just... startled at the fact that this may backfire. The conversation then changed to Audrey telling him that she knew that he knew what he was doing _("I believe that... despite the fact that you allowed an endangered bird is using your chest as a room in the Three Broomsticks,"_ Audrey grumbled) and that he better gain some confidence ( _"I know Puffskeins that wouldn't be thrown around as much as you are, Percival!")._ She might've also said that she would kill him if he dared talk himself down, and he only replied with a sheepish smile. Percy Weasley _not_ talk himself down in a fit of self-loathing and lack of esteem?

Then the conversation drifted back and Percy might've said something he hadn't planned on saying. _At all._

"It is a bit odd you visiting me right now. Considering what with the fact that tomorrow, I would've completed a _year_ of not having a fit and I could be discharged," was the statement that Percy had mentioned in the passing. With his brimming luck, Percy would have a fit an hour before he'd hit the one year mark.

"You are?" Audrey said, her voice high with excitement. "Oh, Percy... I bet you must be over the moon!"

Percy's face remained rigid. "No, I am not," he expressed. "I'm dreading it."

Audrey crumpled almost immediately. _"What?"_ her voice was soft.

Percy didn't know how to explain what he was feeling in any less words than Gilderoy Lockhart's autobiography. He kept on pressing his finger against his spot, which he probably shouldn't do but still did.

"This place isn't so terrible once you get past the semantics," Percy argued weakly.

"They whip you when you're unresponsive to them. You're redder than a bottle of firewhiskey. Your whole world exists of four walls that you haven't left in six years. You have no contact with the outside world at all. You might as well not exist from how insignificant you are when you are in this ward. This place is so dim that I could barely make out how absolutely awful you look like. You're so bloody emaciated that I'm afraid to look at you for anymore than a few minutes in case somehow my gaze becomes too much for you to bear," Audrey snarled out in concern and disbelief. Percy knew that she felt rather strongly about this, considering how acerbic and callous her tone was. "Percy..." she reached over to grasp his face.

Percy's heart did a few flips when he felt her warm hand on his cold face.

"I'm sure your family misses you," Audrey mentioned a topic that she shouldn't have, on any accords, mentioned. "They haven't seen you for six years after all."

Percy didn't even blink. "Yes, they do," he muttered. "That's why I've not heard of them once in six years."

"Percy," Audrey's eyes were hard. "It took me six years to visit you. It took me at least two years to be able to finish off the documents—do you know we had to fill in a _three hundred_ word document? That has to be precisely worded so they don't reject me? And then I had to wait for years before they even approved said documentation. I sent them owls on the regular so that someone would just so someone could have a look at them. I bet they don't want to read a document that long! It is extremely hard to even get the approval to visit you and I'm sure with six other children, it's even more difficult to do. There's a war going on and—"

Percy cut her off. "You're right," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry."

" _NO!_ I'm wrong," Audrey snapped back at him. "I'm just saying that to be nice to them about it, but _you're_ the one that's right. Bloody hell, Percival. You're been stuck here for six years and they haven't come to see you, not at least once? If they'd just bloody taken turns, they could fill in the paperwork just fine and I'm sure it wouldn't have taken them two years like they did me! And your father works in the bloody Ministry, how could he _not_ have gotten it approved? Yes, there's a ruddy war going on, but that should be more _incentive_ to have to see you just because there's no guarantee that you'd be alive tomorrow and—"

Percy placed his hand on Audrey's cheek, heat rushing to his cheeks.

"Audrey," Percy's voice was heavy and he could feel knots form in his stomach. "Duck."

Audrey didn't look amused. "You're not hiding a _duck_ under your robes, are—"

Percy reached over, grabbed her shoulder and pulled themselves both down. A Hagrid-sized flaming arrow hit the bars, immediately tore through them and instantaneously smashed into the wall—leading to its instant explosion. The smell of smoke filled the air and Percy's cling onto Audrey was so tight. The rodents that were there had died on impact. Their blood was flowing everywhere. Apparently, whilst the bars were indeed potion and charms resistant, they were _not_ 'Greek God's energy' resistant. Percy had allowed himself, for a moment, to fill into the gratification as the smoke hit his nostrils. These were feelings that he hadn't allowed himself to confront for years, because they were not normal. He'd rather drown them out with his unending self-hatred and other neuroses thank you very much.

And for once in her life, Audrey Brown was speechless.

" _Percy!_ Look at me! I'm wearing Ares' handmade meat suit!" a voice that sounded a lot like Alec Lestrange called out, grinning wildly as they walked towards him, holding their wand out. "Do you know who _I_ am?"

Given that Ares would not be saying that he was wearing his own meat suit and arrows were involved...

"Artemis!" Percy yelled in surprise, mostly at himself for coming to that conclusion so quickly.

"Yes!" Artemis called out, pleased. "So you have heard of my mission to obliterate you. I must let you know I'm not the only one who's keen on seeing you dead. Now, that you've managed to avoid my arrows—"

"I'm sure the same goes for you," Audrey hissed back. "Percy, we'll run for our lives whilst she's busy chattering on about how remarkable her archery skills are," she whispered and rolled her eyes.

"You want me to _run_...? I'm a cripple!" Percy replied back in a whisper. He knew that running will probably put him into an indescribable agony—yet as she sent another few flaming arrows into the air, he turned round, grabbed Audrey's hand and ran as fast straight into the gaping hole in the wall. He attempted to ignore the searing pain in his knee. He felt like it was about to split.

 _"PERCY!"_ a startled, teary Audrey exclaimed. " _WHEN I SAID RUN... I MEANT THROUGH THE DOOR!"_


	42. Chapter 42

_i wrote this, then re-wrote it because it was terrible. now, it is **less** terrible._

 _as for comment replies (which i have not done in a long time), i'll do them in the next chapter. things have been hectic lately! xx_

* * *

Chapter Forty-Two

* * *

Nineteen-year-old Fred and George expected _many_ things to happen that day.

They expected their brother, whom had just helped Harry Potter defeat You-Know-Who and vanish all evil in the world, to come walking inside their little shop with incessant inability to stop scratching his bottom (George had spent all morning attempting to get a picture of that ruddy botty whilst Fred 'looked for a way to counteract the charm that they'd put into Ron's rice pudding'.)

They expected Bill to wander into the shop at around noon with a message from their mum about how they really _should_ come to dinner tonight and reunite themselves as a single entity after all the bollocks that they've been through because apparently, they'd been ignoring her owls (for a reason! Their mum was _mad with glee!)_

Fred expected George to nearly flambé himself before five o'clock.

Yesterday, George had his one ear covered in cayenne and Fever Fudge gloop. Fred thought he looked... _hot_.

However, neither Fred nor George expected Marcus Flint to walk into their store, looking particularly murderous just fifteen hours after the war had ended (as evident by the fact that Flint's hair was _still_ caked in dried blood and debris). He was holding what looked to be a extremely plump canary in his skinny hands.

 _"WEASELS!"_ twenty-two-year-old Marcus shouted angrily as he spat out a few mottled yellow feathers. Fred thought that this was wise. Who knew how many _"carbs"_ feathers had? "Bring her back _NOW!_ "

Fred found this rather funny. Now, Marcus not only had blood in his hair, debris from Hogwarts but also bright yellow canary feathers littering about those _darling_ black locks (which Fred thought could make it to _Witch Weekly_ as Most Delicious Hair). He also thought this look suited Flint very much—that the yellow _really_ brought out the homicidal intentions in those steely grey eyes!

"Relax, Flint," George was grinning so widely that Fred thought that his face was going to be permanently stuck that way. "Your little date might've eaten one of our new and very exclusive twenty-four hour long-acting canary creams, but—"

"Look on the bright side!" Fred said cheerfully. "You get to have your bird turn into a bird!"

George's eyes lit up even more (if possible). Fred thought that his twin was going to make like their fireworks and just implode any minute. He knew he shouldn't have let George eat that second custard tart! Now, he was bouncing about faster than a Pygmy Puff. "You're just a little smug because she's gone on you!"

Both Fred and George burst into laughter.

Marcus turned to look at the spot of canary muck on his shoulder. He pulled out his wand and called out a scouring charm in seconds. Somehow, having some (probably) dead bloke's blood in his hair didn't bother Flint as much as a _microscopic_ bit of muck. "This isn't funny, you ruddy bastards!"

"It's actually very funny," George said. His eyes started to widen. "Bloody—"

"—hell," Fred cut his twin off. "What's she doing? I've seen—I don't know what in Merlin's name _that_ is!"

"She's _giving birth_ , you morons! I apparated as soon as I can!" Marcus explained hotly, taking the plump bird as gently as he could and putting her on the counter. "What in Merlin's name should I do? Should I take her to St Mungo's or should I be looking for a bloody animal hospital—?"

"You shouldn't have brought her _here!_ " George replied, ghastly pale. Seemed to Fred like he needed another sweet bun. "Do I _look_ like I know how to help canaries give birth? How dense can you be, Flint?"

Marcus stroked the canary's head. "This is all your bloody fault!"

Fred only grinned wildly. "But why? We did you a favour, Flint. I bet a little canary laying an egg is better than eight hours of torturous labour! That'll be seven sickles."

"I'll kill the both of you instead," Marcus decided heatedly. _"GIVE ME MY WIFE BACK... NOW!"_

George and Fred looked back over at each other. Fred believed that George was thinking exactly what Fred was thinking—let their mum deal with a pregnant bird.

JUST as they were falling down to their inevitable end, Percy placed his hands over his ears because he would like to enjoy a few moments of silence before he was crushed spine-first into the portkey-riddled hospital grounds! His only hope was that his body would somehow cushion Audrey's fall (he assumed that all the fluid engorging his inflamed knee joint would be _more_ than enough to moisturise his bony body!)

Fortunately, someone in the great dark skies was listening to him because instead of dissolving into a puddle on the ground, Percy was cushioned nicely onto a warm, soft mattress.

"Piercey! Audi!" Tarvos exclaimed, grabbing Percy by his non-dodgy leg (something that most people neglected to do most of the time) and then pulled him up into an embrace so tight that Percy thought he heard the sound of his vertebrae shatter. Percy supposed that the damage to his spine would've been less severe if he actually did make that devastating landing. "Marcy said that Piercey and Audi will fall from the sky tonight and I should put mattress so they are no hurt! Did Tarvos do good?"

"Tarvos did very good!" Audrey cooed, standing up and placing her head against Tarvos' arm.

Percy did not appreciate the love of his miniscule life wrapping her very delicate hand around Tarvos' muscled arm. Tarvos cracked a wide smile, showcasing his perfect teeth. His masculinity was far superior than Percy's... or every other male for that matter. At least it was so in the ginger's opinion... well, underneath all that muck that had soiled his hair into a cauldron black colour; his hair _might_ still be red.

"Marcy?" Percy asked with an arched eyebrow. _If you value Tarvos' life, you should quietly move away in an orderly fashion_ , Percy thought to himself, eyes still on where Audrey was clinging onto Tarvos.

Audrey shot a look over at Percy, noting how acerbic his tone was. "Oh, Percival. He means Marcus Flint."

"Marcus Flint knew we were going to _'fall out of the sky'?_ " Percy mumbled. Of course he did! _Typical_. He supposed it was Caius Flint that had told Marcus. Last time, he tried to convince Percy that a Greek God was after him and Percy ignored it... which led to his six years of solitude where he made friends with a very fetching golden snidget. "Wait, how did you even know that Tarvos referred to Marcus Flint as _Marcy?_ "

"He's a colleague," Audrey explained as she grabbed Percy's elbow, and it was not at all as gentle as it looked like when she was holding Tarvos' arm. "Do you know him?"

"I surely hope that you aren't implying that Marcus Flint is a nurse," Percy couldn't hide his surprise. He couldn't quite image Marcus Flint willingly put on those extremely feminine sparkling ivory robes and walk behind overzealous healers without somehow threatening to annihilate the whole hospital because some woman made a comment about how crooked his teeth were. "That is simply impossible! It's absurd. It's—"

"I surely hope that you realise that men could be nurses as well," Audrey mumbled in annoyance as she waved towards a happy-looking Tarvos that didn't seem to be very interested in their conversation before she dragged him off to the hospital. "I'm going to sign you out of the ward seeing as _it is midnight_ , and you are free and _then_ I am going to take you home and sterilise you before your hair comes to life and kills us all."

It was then that Percy decided that he was not at all jealous of Tarvos, because Tarvos was _not_ going home with the wonderful, bodacious Audrey.

As they made their way inside St Mungo's, Percy immediately closed his eyes to prevent them from seeping out from their sockets, or violently imploding. It was also then he realised, as Audrey walked inside the building with an ease he found a great difficulty in (and it was not because his leg was shattered—though that _certainly_ did not help!), that being without light for six years made him adapt to complete and utter darkness.

Being sat in a room that was "well lit" made Percy feel as if his brain was stewing and bubbling away.

Thus—in conclusion, Percy was about to drop into foetal position because he thought that he became blind at the sudden slaughter of bright white light. The last thing he could remember before being dragged to the counter was that he could somehow make out Audrey's frame. He buried his head into his hands, but he could feel the brutal glow peeking through to his skull and pounding onto his delicate brain matter.

And _that_ was the impressive story of the worst migraine of his life.

Percy was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace. Fortunately, he didn't even have to see who was crushing him into bits and pieces to know who it was. It seemed that poor, well meaning Tarvos was attempting to get his fill after not seeing Percy for six years—though not much had changed, besides... _everything_.

"Tarvos," Percy mumbled, somehow managing to say the bloke's name in _one_ breath whilst his lungs were being incinerated by the most violent hug of his life. Percy supposed that he was fitter than he'd expected. "Can you take me to the lavatories? I would like to see how I look like."

Tarvos somehow shifted them over towards the lavatories, which was only about a minute walk away.

"Piercey look not clean!" Tarvos exclaimed, which should've been Percy's first indication to run far away.

Percy could see Audrey glance towards him, and give him a quick nod of the head as a large stack of papers suddenly hit the desk, making her jolt up. Her wand nearly fell out of her ivory hospital robes. Although he would never admit it to a soul in the universe for fear of being called a secluded, depressing git, Percy was actually terribly jealous of the amount of paperwork that she got to do!

"Do I look presentable, Tarvos?" Percy suddenly asked.

"No!" Tarvos exclaimed, offering a warm beam. Trust Tarvos not to have a filter for such things! This should've been Percy's second indication to run very far away, but he was too much of a plonker to listen to his own reasoning.

Needless to say, all his thoughts of paperwork vanished, just as he soon caught sight of himself in the mirror. Vanishing along with the paperwork was all the blood supply to any major organs (his body's attempt to reserve the last bit of dignity he had left in him). This was the second time that Percy had taken a look at himself that day. This time, he caught sight of himself _with_ proper lighting. Apparently, the addition of light had made him realise just how one truly looked like after six years of seclusion from society! Percy had seen _ghosts_ at Hogwarts look much less depressing! That trick that Nearly Headless Nick did with his head looked almost like a graceful ballet compared to this distressing sight that Percy was faced with.

Percy was so stunned that he only knew how to respond by letting an ear-shattering scream. Tarvos was so surprised that he'd dropped Percy from his arms. The floor was too hard on his delicate bones that Percy wouldn't be surprised if he'd snapped all his ribs at once and managed to puncture a lung... unfortunately, that would mean that things were actually going his way! Death seemed commendable at this point. He could _not_ leave the lavatory looking like _this_! He was _once_ a respectable individual but was now reduced down to a thestral that had a mud fight a century ago! Percy couldn't believe that hours ago, he'd preferred staying in that— _that prison_ infinitely! Maybe the lack of light and the hospital's insistence on feeding him Fanged Geraniums left him in this abysmal predicament. Maybe if he scrubbed so hard that his skin would melt, maybe then he could show his (non-existent, skeletal, repulsive... _rotting!)_ face around England again.

A golden snidget flew out of his robes in haste and Percy immediately jumped up in fright. Oh, yes, he'd nearly forgotten! He'd broken the law for a bird! Because _that_ was definitely Percy-like. Merlin, someone slay him now and sacrifice him to Zeus before he lose the strands of—

Tarvos, as the gentleman that he was, seemed to be concerned about the golden bird. "Piercey, dinner fly away!"

Percy immediately pulled the gape into his robes where his bird was nestling about. Speaking of a lavatory, the golden snidget (which Percy would chase down and kill himself) seemed to have used Percy's body as one a few times. He could see that beneath his very abominably prominent ribcage was so much dirt on his skin that a few slimy leeches and smarmy maggots had taken refuge in it.

As Percy came to his senses, he did the only thing that one could do when they realised that they had literally become a personification of a dungbomb... _and had been for the last six years!_

"Tarvos?" Percy called out apathetically. "Do not be alarmed if I happen to lose consciousness. That's just my body reacting in a justifiable way to this unacceptable state that I have seemed to have put myself in."

FRED and George were waiting outside, debating whether or not that St Mungo's would actually be able to unlock their very secret formula to their new canary creams. Thus far, it had been two minutes and they were grinning coyly to each other, arms crossed in contentment.

George had raided the candy aisle in Honeydukes before they made it to here. Unfortunately, Flint was so nervous that along with a huge assortment of pepper imps, he'd gotten Flint's nail clippings and buckets of sweat. George still scoffed them off as the contents of the packets remained untainted and a few minutes ago, was nearly admitted in because they thought George was a case of an _Incendio_ gone wrong. Apparently, you were not supposed to eat five whole packets of pepper imps in less than ten minutes.

Speaking of which, Fred was not sure how George had smoke coming out of both his ears when he, in fact, did not have two ears.

"What if she lays an egg before they turn her human?" George mumbled, rubbing his ear as a healer passed him by and reminded him that smoking was not allowed in the hospital. He only smiled sheepishly.

Fred smirked at the thought. "Then supper is served."

George playfully shoved Fred, whom shoved back. They laughed mindlessly but their laughter was cut short when the door to the delivery room was cracked wide open.

 _"Ican'tbreathe,"_ a peaky Marcus Flint sounded out as he left the delivery room. He kept on running his hand through his (now) featherless flat dark hair.

Fred found it funny that twenty-two-year-old Marcus still looked like a school boy in his shiny new loafers, his button-down and those trousers. _Merlin._ Could he even apparate without having a whole Ministry department attempt to fine him for being too young to apparate? Fred found it funnier given the fact that Flint was probably _still_ in school. Didn't he fail the same year thrice?

"Godric, he looks like he just left a Potions exam," George mumbled, but then bit down his lower lip because they couldn't even vaguely imply anything related to Snape without remembering that _Snape was dead_.

"I know," Fred grinned, but George seemed to have missed the joke because he stood up to wander off towards Marcus. Fred sighed and followed, annoyed. George was _only_ older by a second, and yet he had all this hidden maturity in him that Fred couldn't even dream of grasping!

George cocked his head to one side when he got to Flint. "The canary laid an egg, didn't it?"

 _So much for George's compassionate side,_ Fred thought to himself. Then again, it _was_ Flint.

"No!" Marcus exclaimed. "She's bloody fine! I'm the one that— _I_ can't— _Bloody hell!_ "

Fred and George glanced over at each other, attempting to decipher the unfathomable.

 _"Two Piercey!"_ called out an attractive half-breed whom flashed his pearl-like smile towards them before he wrapped his arms around Fred and George in zeal. Fred believed that before that soul-crushing hug, he had _some_ semblance of a bone structure. "Marcy sad!"

Fred and George beamed at that beautiful nickname. _"Marcy?"_ they called out in unison.

Those smiles didn't last long considering the fact that Tarvos dumped Fred and George down like they were a heavy burden the half-breed had to get rid of now before he toppled over. Fred was sure that bloke accidentally dislocated George's shoulder in the process.

He wrapped his arms around Marcus, tightly crushing him. Fred immediately realised that Flint was a lot more intimidating than either of them gave him credit for. He didn't crumble at all when the half-breed hugged him. In fact, Marcus lit up at this tight-arsed embrace and somehow managed to hug the brute back. Fred was not sure how this was possible given the fact that next to that bloke's gigantic height, Marcus looked like a stretched out house-elf. In fact, he looked like a stretched out house elf standing next to most bloody people. Speaking of so, the half-breed grabbed Marcus' stomach and attempted to stretch it out like one would a wad of salt water taffy.

"Marcy have baby!" he jiggled Marcus around by his abdomen.

"At least he has colour to his cheeks again," George decided.

"I'm sure that the colour we were looking for wasn't green, Gred," Fred said in a matter-of-fact tone, before they both cracked identical grins and debated whether or not they should help Marcus before he flooded them with tea-like vomit. "Flint, when did you want to tell us that you were expecting?"

"I'll—I'll kill the both of you," Marcus managed to choke out. At least he wasn't sad anymore.

When a scream sounded out from the room, Marcus immediately pushed Tarvos away. Fred was not sure how that little creature had enough force in him to make the half-breed stumble back. Flint was truly a terrifying little thing. Marcus practically bolted inside the delivery room, where the screams of terror were getting louder. Fred and George looked over at each other, swallowed the lumps in their throat and decided to face the music themselves and see what the fuss was all about. After all, _'the music'_ couldn't be as bad as the Rhythmic Runes' new album! Right? And besides, Fred and George were _very_ curious to who in Merlin's name would be stupid enough to marry Marcus Flint _and_ carry his baby!

Fred and George's eyes were just about to pop out of their skulls when they were met by a familiar golden-haired woman screaming bloody murder. Molly was beside her, grasping her shoulder and muttering words of encouragement (Fred and George were _still_ giving themselves claps on the back for getting their mum involved!) and Marcus Flint stood opposite to Molly, placing a hand on Penelope's arm. Ayden Clearwater apparated, panting and drenched in a silvery slime.

Fred bit back his tongue because the last thing they needed was a joke about Ayden being an unfortunate causality to Penelope's holy baby water!

WAKING up by being dumped into a pool of cold water was not how Percy Weasley preferred to wake up usually, but given the fact that he looked worse than Fred and George's manky sock collection, Percy was very, _very_ glad that he woke up in this manner. He immediately turned to grab a sponge and vigorously scrubbed his body. Standing by the bathtub was Audrey, whom had her arms crossed over her chest and was smirking at him. Obviously, she, too, had realised that he'd come to his senses.

"Where's your little golden mate?" Audrey asked, raising an eyebrow.

Percy shuddered in the thought of that blasted bird. "When I will find that foul animal, I will kill it in a _very_ aggressive game of Quidditch. I believe it will accidentally fall prey to an especially well designed Beater's bat. Maybe I will even get _Marcy_ involved in such a task."

Audrey suddenly grabbed him up from the bathtub, embracing him so tightly that Percy thought that she'd accidentally punctured one of his lungs. He knew that Audrey left him breathless, but _this_ was just pushing it!

"Audrey... _please!_ " Percy exclaimed, pushing her away as gently as he could. He wasn't a Neanderthal that did not care for women after all. He would leave the lawsuits to Roger Davies thank you very much. It was then that he (fortunately) seemed to note that the presence of light no longer made his head feel moments away from _Confringo_ -ing. He _only_ felt like crushing his head with a rock! An impressive improvement.

Audrey pulled away from him, grinning wildly and then giggling. Percy loathed her for melting his heart. It made it so difficult to be himself when he was too busy being an ooey gooey puddle on the ground. An even more terrifying thought was that a Percy puddle would be a better state than he was now!

As he remembered this, he grasped the sponge so hard his knuckles turned white and then scrubbed harder.

"Audrey, look at what I've become! I'm _fossilised!_ " Percy huffed in horror, as he attempted to cleanse himself of his six year long impurity. "And what I've said in the ward? I was a fool! I was an idiot. I had lost my pompousness and my-my—"

 _"_ Percyness?" Audrey offered, with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes!" Percy agreed before his eyebrows knitted with concentration. "However, _that_ is not a word."

He looked down at the tinted bathwater and frowned in disgust. Audrey seemed to find this notion amusing, but Percy couldn't even begin to allow himself to laugh. "Audrey! I have leeches living on me!"

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about getting a blood clot now!" Audrey jeered, brown eyes warm.

Percy did not realise that this was a joke. "I do not believe in the prospect of leech therapy on the prospect that one should exhaust all other options before allowing such foul creatures to rest anywhere near their skin. I actually would go as far as stating that I would rather have a fatal pulmonary embolisms than allow these _heathens_ to be anywhere near my skin!" he groaned in irritation, realising that these heathens had, in fact, been using his body long enough that they'd probably had more memories than Percy did in the Burrow.

Audrey was giggling about as she saw him place the sponge away for the moment to admire his handiwork. It seemed that vigorously scrubbing for fifteen minutes did nothing but make the sponge filthy.

Percy let out a long sigh. "Leave me be, Audrey. I will continue attempting to extract this filth that has marred my skin. If, by tomorrow morning, I seem to still be in this sorry state of being, then I would like you to stab me repeatedly in the belly. Due to my probable anaemia and the anticoagulant activity of my accidental leech therapy, I will probably die very quickly and painlessly."

Percy rolled his eyes as she walked away. It was only then did it percolate through Percy's mind that Audrey would've had to seen him in the nude before she'd thrown him into the bathtub.


	43. Chapter 43

**the warnings are: i solation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute**... **that 'God know what else i decide to put in last minute' includes** **suicidal ideation (possibly an attempt or attempts, may it be successful or not later on), mentions/possible illustrations of self-harm and a mention of sexual assault (Penelope and Roger).**

 **these were the warnings. then for some reason, this Percy that came out of the ward is _SO_ self-destructive that i have to mention  illustrations of self-harm again (more vividly this time, possibly graphic) and suicidal ideation (with _multiple_ attempts, not just one.) Percy is very, very, _very_ unstable. up  until now, there are only _mentions_ of what happened/what he has done but no thorough scene with Percy actually committing such things, but i wouldn't be surprised if they will be covered in the future in very lucid detail. this is a warning. **

**Percy's psyche is _very_...  interesting to say the least. i am somehow attempting to diffuse this with some lighter situations/scenes, but it is still a very heavy subject.**

 **comment reply:**

 _ **Phoenixx Rising: it's been some time since i've done one of these. i'm always surprised that Tarvos just managed to shove himself into this fanfic! i think there's a few more scenes with him in this fanfic.**_

* * *

Chapter Forty-Three

* * *

After the longest two hours of Fred and George's lives, Fred was glad to announce that it was finally over.

The baby had been taken away for a wash and George had told Fred that he'd been considering building a new firework based off the set of lungs that little kid was born with! Meanwhile, Penelope was panting and huffing like that day that Marcus Flint discovered that Pucey had put dragon dung in his favourite loafers.

"You won't believe what I saw today at Auror training!" said seventeen-year-old Ron, whom apparated into the hospital room with Harry stood beside him. Molly was right about him reading the note on the fridge.

"Didn't I tell you to go back to school instead of doing this- _this_ —?" Molly's voice was cut off by Penelope's long and intense glare over at Molly. Penelope had changed into a pair of Welsh Green-coloured robes and was just about to fall asleep. She'd demanded complete silence just a few seconds ago. "Hermione is sat at home, finishing off the work that she was supposed to be doing to finish off the last bit of Hogwarts exam instead of wrecking about with the Auror office! And how are they sending you for missions _NOW?_ You lot haven't even gotten through basic Auror training yet! Just because you've saved the whole wizarding world from obliteration does not mean that you can abuse the system like this—Penelope, sweetheart, you should really take that scowl off your face! If you keep that up, your face will stay stuck like that!"

"Hello, Penny," Harry greeted her with a wave. "I didn't know you had one whacked in the oven."

"That's because if it was a sweet bun, George would've scoffed it by now," Fred jeered.

Penelope shot Fred a look and then sat up tiredly, placing her hand on Marcus', which was pressed up against her hospital cot. "Well, there was a war going on. I didn't think it was wise to be going about, letting the whole of Britain know that I've married Marcus and was, indeed, pregnant with _his_ child… as my father's intense resolve to assaulting me with multiple prenatal paternity tests proved."

Ayden scoffed at the last part. "I still do not believe you insisted on marrying this- _this_ —"

"—wonderful and caring individual," Penelope cut him off with a sharp look.

The part-troll only offered a toothy beam when Ayden stared at him with a cold, piercing look.

"Oh, Ayden," Molly crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm sure that Penelope and Marcus are very happy together. I've had a chat with Viola the other day and she kept on gushing about how beautiful she thought that Penelope looked like on her wedding day! She wore her mother's dress robes you know! It's a shame that you didn't even attend your own daughter's wedding! It's a revolting thought that the man that was socking poor Marcus in when he was little was the same man that was walking Penelope down the aisle. Oh, I'm glad you actually showed up to _this_... else I would've hunted you down myself and dragged you here. Your daughter is blossoming into a fine character and you're insisting on letting yourself miss out on her life because your stubborn arse isn't happy with whom she choose to spend the rest of her life with!"

George's eyes widened in surprise. He looked like he did on that night where Ginny decided to play her Weird Sisters album at four in the morning and accidentally woke up the whole of Devon. "Mr Clearwater, I say this as respectfully as I can... you're a bastard if you didn't attend your daughter's wedding just because you didn't like the fact that she was off snogging trolls instead of princes! No offence, Flint."

"I'll break your neck," Marcus smoothly replied. _None taken_ , Fred supposed.

Ron opened his mouth to speak. "You—"

He was immediately cut off by a raging Molly, "Speaking of stupid things you've done, Ayden, why is it that my child is _already_ out doing Auror missions? You're tired, love. I know, especially with all the causalities in the war, you need someone as commendable as your old task force to attempt to take their place but you cannot trust the expertise of children that haven't even completed their Hogwarts' education! Especially if one of them is my son! Don't you think he's been in enough danger these past six years as it is?"

"Well, yes," Ayden replied, his cheeks coloured in darkly. "But—"

"Mum, we just defeated one of the Darkest Wizards of the Ages!" Ron exclaimed, waving his arms around haphazardly. "We can handle whatever they throw over at us!"

"Ron—" Harry was cut off by Molly.

"I nearly lost both of you only _a month ago_ and now, you're already in the bloody game again! How do you exactly want me to react?" Molly exclaimed, looking close to tears as she turned to Penelope with a hardened expression. "Penelope, sweetheart, you really need your rest. Look at you; you look like you're just barely staying awake! We'll wake you up when they bring the little one over! I promise!"

Fred thought that Marcus looked like he could use the kip more than Penelope did.

"Harry, do you want to hold my baby?" Penelope suddenly asked, sitting up straight with her big tired blue eyes glowing in excitement. She ran her hand through her long golden hair. "They're going to bring the little nipper over here any minute now. I can hardly contain my excitement! I want you to be the first to hold them because they wouldn't have been possible without you! Saving the wizarding world and all."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Thank you?" he replied awkwardly.

"Don't forget, Clearwater, _I'm_ your husband," Marcus mumbled in irritation.

"Yes, _I_ remember because it's Flint. It hasn't been Clearwater for _a year now_ , Marcus," Penelope replied in an acerbic tone of voice before flashing a warm look towards Harry.

Godric, Fred never knew that their father hated himself so much. He'd done this six other times. Fred was exhausted and he wasn't even going to go home with the wee tot! _Thankfully!_ Speaking of the little thing, it seemed that one of the nurses had appeared again, holding the blanketed bundle into her arms. Harry cautiously took the baby, obviously very aware of Marcus' glower and then smiled weakly over at the baby.

"Oh!" the nurse exclaimed. "Congratulations, Mr Potter. She's a beautiful little creature!"

"He's not his bloody—"Marcus' irritation melted away and a look of glee crossed his face. _"She?"_

Fred caught sight of the little thing when Harry had been holding her. She was pretty bloody big for a newborn, red and ugly, but with a miniscule tuft of golden hair and big blue eyes. The smell of her though... there was _no_ mistaking that she had troll blood in her! When Ayden Clearwater got a whiff of that, he would definitely stop demanding paternity tests.

Marcus and Penelope's faces lit up like Father Christmas had just paid them a visit.

Apparating inside the _very_ cramped hospital room was an excited Viola Flint, whom looked groomed to perfection. Her watermelon-sized knockers nearly broke a lamp as she ran to them in excitement. Her big lavender eyes were glimmering so brightly that Fred could read constellations in her starry eyes. Viola immediately snatched the baby up from Harry, squeezing herself between a displeased Ron and a euphoric Marcus. "Congratulations!" she called out. "Oh, Marcus... she looks nothing like you!"

"That's probably for the best," Harry decided to mention, only for Marcus to shoot a look towards Harry.

Ayden managed to weed through the crowd. The bloke was microscopic. He was thin and short, making him look like a six-year-old bloke that attempted to be noticed by their mum. He stood up on his toes in his attempt to catch a look over at quiet baby but it didn't seem to work. He poked Viola's arm, waiting for recognition, only for her to look down at him and then ruffle through his long blonde locks before shoving a piece of chocolate fudge in his mouth with her free hand. Now that Fred noticed that there was chocolate fudge besides Penelope's bed, it was all he could think about. George had to be planning an attack from the way that he was salivating. _After all, it had been an hour since George had eaten_, Fred snickered in thought.

"Oh, Penny!" Viola exclaimed, voice warm. Fred swore that she had to have been sorted into Hufflepuff. Nobody else could be that happy. "You didn't tell me you had such a cute little brother." She grabbed Ayden's cheek and pinched it much to his instant exasperation.

Penelope chuckled and shook her head. "That's my father."

At that notion, Ayden managed to finally take hold of the baby. He wasn't happy about it, probably because Fred and George could smell that distinctive troll smell and they were at the end of the room.

Penelope's face crumbled and she looked away from him. "Marcus, _darling_ ," she scoffed in a stern, icy voice. "Go take the little one down to the psych ward so that your father could have a look over at her."

"Over my dead body," Viola Flint hissed. "Marcus is _not_ taking my grandchild to see that man if it kills me!"

Marcus slowly nodded his head; his lips pressed tightly into a line as he took his child from Ayden.

"Marcus," Penelope frowned deeply. She looked very likely to slip into a coma and Fred wondered how in Merlin's name she'd managed to keep herself awake for so long. She looked absolutely exhausted. "Please."

"I'm not showing my bloody father my daughter," Marcus said firmly. "Get some sleep, Clearwater. We'll talk about this later."

Penelope yawned, and just before she fell asleep, she said, "It hasn't been Clearwater for a year. I'm _Flint_."

With that loud and frightening snoring, Fred supposed she really was Flint!

"I AM happy to announce that I am now _finally_ clean," Percy said, as he emerged from the bathroom with a white towel tied to his hips. He had very short dull red hair. "My skin might be red and blistering, I might've had to cut off most of my locks and burn them before we were invaded by other disgusting woodland creatures and I might've fallen asleep in my own dirty bathwater when I was done because it had taken me several hours to disinfect myself, but that matters not because _I am clean_. I am pure and I—"

"Have missed a spot," Audrey pointed towards a patch of skin on his shoulders, and then on his nose, his cheeks, his bellybutton and—

 _"Those are my freckles!"_ Percy yelled in irritation.

Audrey smiled warmly and then wrapped her arms around his frame, squishing him tightly into her embrace. "Oh, Percy! I'm so glad that you're more like yourself." She then pushed him into her room, and shoved a new pair of black cotton robes towards him. "I bought you these robes this morning. Unfortunately, they do not have Inferi sized robes. I thought maybe I should ask Marcus where he buys his robes from, but apparently, it's Penelope that shops for him."

Percy huffed and took them into his hands, only to have a pair of... _patriotic_ underpants hit his face.

"Wait, Penelope Clearwater?" he attempted to wear his underpants without letting Audrey see any bit of his anatomy but he did not know why he bothered since she already knew how he looked like.

Audrey gave a quick nod of her head. "Yes, I have some pictures from the wedding if you want to see!"

 _"Wedding?"_ Percy felt lightheaded and it wasn't because he hadn't eaten or drunken a thing in the past twenty-four hours. Imaging Marcus and Penelope together brought a shiver down his spine. He always believed that Penelope would go for someone that was more... well, someone that actually opened a book outside of their Hogwarts classes. To be fair, he was sure that when Marcus was bored, he tore out pages from his Herbology text and made paper dragons out of them.

Audrey frowned. "Did you like her? Penelope?"

"No! My heart solely belongs to you!" Percy replied, because that was not desperate at all. He was glad he'd already put his underpants on because he was so surprised at her question, he'd thrown his towel away.

She rolled her eyes and he offered a sheepish smile.

Percy recalled that this time two days ago, he'd pulled out an extremely large twig from his hair. He was sure that the twig did not have three flobberworms living in it until he'd pulled it out of his own hair. Percy shuddered at the thought of how low he'd sunken in that— _that pit of endless doom and despair!_

Percy was not ready to face off Ares any time soon. Godric, Percy wasn't even ready to face off the indigestion he was going to receive from eating manky, old Herbology plants for dinner for a week.

As he put on the robes, Audrey spoke, "I'm going to go to my mother's house to go and get Lucy but I'm taking you to the Burrow beforehand... and before I do that, I'm going to feed you before you float away."

"The..." Percy's voice was soft, heart fluttering wildly in his chest. "The... the Burrow?"

Audrey grinned wildly. "Oh, Percival!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you excited?"

Percy's throat became dry. He wanted to say that he did not wish to see them or hear from them ever again considering the circumstances that he had been left in, but that would've been the biggest lie of his life. Percy missed hearing his mum moan on about how he kept so much to himself and how worried she was about it. He missed watching their Quidditch matches, even if there was a time where he would've done anything to have them stop playing them. He missed seeing Ginny beat them in most games. He missed seeing Charlie talk incessantly about his burns. He missed seeing Bill change his earring before he spent three hours searching for where the other part was at. He missed seeing Ron irritated over the most menial things. He even missed waking up in the morning to see that his hair was a brightly coloured pink, or that his shoes had been randomly changed into a striking pair of pumps. Percy would actually go as far as to say he missed Arthur telling him not to laze around in his room all day long.

Then he felt like he'd been hit with a bucket of cold icy... _freezing..._ reality.

His family had just gone _through a war_. Percy was _not there_. Percy was stuck in a complete static for six years, six years of _nothing_ but being smacked in the bottom for not listening to instructions. Six years where they were probably flickering about in safe houses, scared for their lives, six years of Ron being involved with that black-haired bloke that saved the wizarding world the first time around, six years where anything and everything could've happened and Percy had not been there to witness it.

Ron was seventeen. Ginny was sixteen. Bill and Charlie were at ages that Percy did not want to fathom because they might be married off by now... _the twins!_ They were nineteen and Percy might as well have been in a coma for six years because he was so out of touch with _everything_.

For the second time since he'd been out of the ward, he'd sobered up.

Percy straightened up his back and pretended that it was not the first time that he'd seen that picture of Lucy stood on the mantelpiece above Audrey's fireplace. He pretended that it did not bother him that the last he'd seen her; she was two years old, small and quiet. That eight-year-old little redhead in the photograph had a mischievous glint in her eyes and her cheeks were freckled enough that they looked to be a different shade from the rest of her. _That was not Lucy. That could not be Lucy—_

Percy's stomach churned. His head was woozy and he was sure that the lack of food and drink _was_ involved.

He sat down onto the couch (how did he end up in the living room was beyond him) because he did _not_ fancy fainting a second time in what was less than twelve hours since he'd left the ward. Percy found himself placing his hands on his ears. His chest tightened and he felt like he was drowning in the implication of everything. His head was spinning and he bit down his lower lip so hard he was drawing blood.

 _Godric, what had they done to him in there?_ All he could hear was a deafening silence, a silence that he was already deeply drowning in but then... he remembered.

Percy remembered being so hungry that his desperation led him to dissect and eat a rat with his own bare hands. He remembered crying so hard that he actually ended up vomiting and then sleeping in his own sick. He remembered that at some point, Percy attempted to snuff it in himself using nothing more than a spoon and a paperclip he'd been saving for two years. He remembered banging his head against the wall, attempting to bleed out to his own death, wishing that this time he would be able to lose enough blood before they found him. He remembered throwing forks over at nurses that attempted to smack him over with whips and constrain him. Percy remembered attempting to steal one of their wands and instead, had his wrist broken for being disobedient. Percy remembered how laughing at jokes the twins had told years ago, sobbing as he screamed out how sorry he was that they'd ever believed that they were terrible... a thousand memories assaulted his head in seconds and the world was spinning round so fast that he could barely fathom the fact that he was alive, free of that prison and was sat in Audrey's living room in nice new black robes.

"Percy?" Audrey called out. He didn't know how he heard her considering he had his hands on his ears and was busy blocking out the rest of the world. "You're hyperventilating."

His heart was pumping so loudly he believed that it was due to fly out of his chest like _that stupid bird_. The past twelve hours had been much of a shock to him and he hadn't even grasped much of anything. His mind was numb as more images assaulted his mind. Sixteen-year-old Percy loosening a brick on the wall and slamming it into his head repeatedly. Seventeen-year-old Percy feeling the spider he had for dinner crawl back up into his mouth. Eighteen-year-old Percy carving images into the stone until his wrists ached. Nineteen-year-old Percy shaking his head as Ares told him what Scabbers was. Twenty-year-old Percy told that the merfolk that told him about Elijah was just talking about the manticore that Percy had 'killed' by allowing him to laugh himself to death. Twenty-one year old Percy being... _here_. In Audrey's living room. _He did not feel free. He felt trapped. He could feel the walls closing in on him. He felt like he was suffocating—_

 _Rat eater! Rat eater!_ The imaginary sounds of Fred and George roared into his brain. _Rat eater!_

Percy wished he could cry, but all he could do was stare aimlessly into space, wondering how he had gotten himself into this position. He was _humiliated_ at everything that he had ever done.

"Audrey, I... I believe I-I..." Percy whispered. "I am just coming to terms with what had been done to me."


	44. Chapter 44

**trigger warnings are extremely applicable. this is _extremely_ heavy material... i've attempted to present it in a less heavy way by not going through these scenes and only mentioning what has happened, but if i do go through these scenes... well, i did warn you about the heaviness of this material.**

 _ **replies to any inquiries:**_

 ** _Phoenixx Rising: oh, you can say that again! i think the amount of Percy angst, err, torture in this one particular fanfiction has been gauged up as the chapters go on...! i believe it keeps on somehow getting worse. it has its sweet moments though (at least i hope i remember them correctly...)_**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Four

* * *

Twenty-one-year-old Percy Weasley pushed a bowl of porridge towards Audrey. She was wearing a pair of frilly pink robes and had her long brown hair done up in a bun, with a bright pink ribbon.

His heart sunk into his chest as visions of a ten-year-old Ginny in pink robes suddenly came to his mind.

"Who told you that you were allowed to operate a stove or a microwave or a wand or _whatever it is_ you used to boil water, Percival?" Audrey said angrily as she stabbed the porridge bowl with a spoon.

Percy raised an eyebrow. "It's criminal to make porridge with water. _I_ used milk."

Audrey was less than amused by this. "And you didn't purposely pour some on yourself like you did with every single hot beverage I've handed you this week? Or maybe you would've grabbed one of my pans and thrashed your head until you were bleeding like you did two days ago? _What about_ —what about yesterday when you wanted me to give you back your wand and I told you that I refused to give it back to you because I feared that you will kill yourself and you told me that you wouldn't dream of soiling my carpet?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "Fine," he rubbed his neck in hesitation. "I was less than lucid..."

"You were _not_ 'less than lucid!' You _are_ a self-destructive, suicidal maniac!" Audrey exclaimed. "I was afraid of leaving you alone to shower because you have a tendency to either hit yourself against the wall, burn yourself via hot water or attempt to look for razor blades in my bathroom counter..."

Audrey shook her head and grabbed him by his freckled shoulders. She looked close to tears like she did not only eight hours ago. "I can't do this, Percy. I can't live like this. I have left my daughter alone in my mother's house for a whole week just because I couldn't bring her here what with what you're doing to yourself! Percy, you are not stable. You are not supposed to be out in the community. You are not supposed to be operating a stove and _you are certainly not supposed to be wielding a wand!"_

"Thank you for your words of endless encouragement," Percy mumbled in annoyance.

Audrey's sternness dissolved. "Percy, this isn't about encouragement!" she waved her arms around frantically. "You scare me to death. One moment you're composed and content with yourself and the next minute you're looking for where I keep my pain potions. You need someone to be with you at all times because if I took my eyes off you for just a second this past week, I might've found myself in a position where I might've had to make a Floo call to the Burrow to tell your mum that her son would like to come home for dinner, but unfortunately, he's killed himself—"

Percy's shoulders slumped. "I realise this but—"

"Percy, stop it," Audrey snapped at him, expression gentle. "I'm apparating you to the Burrow."

Percy's eyes widened. He was not prepared to see them and see how things had changed. He did not want to see said change and most importantly, he was scared that he actually was left forgotten and abandoned in that dingy little cell where he seemed to have lost all his gobstones.

 _"PERCIVAL, THAT IS ENOUGH!"_ she exclaimed. "You are _supposed_ to be saving the wizarding world from a Greek God! How are you supposed to do that if you can't even have supper with your family?"

"I thought I was too mentally unstable to sit in a room unsupervised," Percy argued, "much less attempt to save the wizarding world from a Greek God."

"You _are_ too mentally unstable to sit in a room unsupervised," Audrey stated seriously. A few seconds later, she followed this with, "But being around your family will help you cope emotionally with all the things that you've had to go through. Face it, Percival. You only have a year before Ares takes your body as a vessel and it's because you've given him the green light to take over your body in that cell due to some elaborate, hard to understand scheme that I still find hard to digest!"

Percy looked away. _"Green light?"_ he raised an eyebrow. "What does the Killing Curse have to do with this?"

"It's a muggle expression relating to..." Audrey cut herself off. "It's not important!"

She sighed and then offered him a tiny picture that she had kept stored away at the sleeve of her robes. Percy was about to ask what it was before he actually took a gander over at it. It was an old picture that they took when Percy was fifteen. He recognised those mucky volunteering robes anywhere. Audrey and Percy were sharing an ice-cream and they were caught mid-laughter. The photo was in an odd angle because Tarvos had insisted on taking it. This was further confirmed by the fact that there was a turtle dove feather stuck to the lens, no doubt a leftover from Tarvos' breakfast.

Audrey placed a hand on his cheek, stroking it softly. "I thought that it would help."

Percy only smiled, as he stared down at the picture. It did help, because the fact that she had it on her to give to him made Percy believe that she'd been carrying it on her person all these years.

He noticed how close she was to him and his heart did a bit of a flip. "Audrey. About our relationship—"

"Get better," Audrey said, dropping her hand to his shoulder. "Then we can talk more."

Percy slowly nodded his head and he felt his heart do a bit of a tingle as she leaned up to offer a warm peck to his cheek before she ruffled his red hair. It was then that he happened to remember that his dear Audrey had spent years on a three hundred word documentation and flooded the Ministry with owls so that she could come to see how he was coping in his tiny little cell.

 _Perhaps_ , thought Percy tentatively. _Some normalcy would be possible in the near future_.

 _"MARCUS!"_ PENELOPE Flint exclaimed, her voice bouncing off the walls of their small, cramped London flat. Everything smelled like Honeydukes. Penelope knew that she'd asked Merlin for a way to prevent herself from consuming the Tarvos-sized chocolate fudge doughnut she had in her pantry but _this_ was ridiculous! Just the thought of chocolate made her nauseated because the smell of her flat was _so_ pungent!

She walked into their room to find Marcus standing by the baby's rickety, rackety cot.

He tore off a chocolate frog packet, throwing the brightly coloured wrapper into a never-ending pile of other shiny wrappers and glossy collecting cards. Marcus allowed the frog fly away from his grasp—disappearing well out the window into the not-so-starry night. Marcus' wide translucent eyes were glued to the cot, his cheeks rosier than the bouquet of vibrant red roses that he had tossed to their bed, obviously as a peace offering to Penelope for the absolute mess that he'd managed to make in eight hours! _He better have done the dishes!_ Penelope could already tell that he'd attempted a bath. Marcus smelled less troll-like than usual.

Penelope couldn't help but explode. _"WHY IS OUR FLAT COVERED IN CHOCOLATE FROG WRAPPERS?"_

Marcus grabbed Penelope by her elbow and pulled her up towards Avis' cot. At this point, Penelope was seriously regretting that choice of turning up to work the day after she gave birth (and Marcus _did_ tell her that she was being bloody inane but she wouldn't have it. _She was going. It was her choice._) Penelope's mouth hung open and warmth spread across her cheeks and travelled down to her spine and chest.

"Is she _smiling?_ But- _but_ she's a day old! Is this how it's like having a baby with troll blood?" Penelope beamed. "She's looking at _you_ and she's _smiling_! Oh Godric... do you have any more? Do that again!"

Marcus opened the drawer and unwrapped another chocolate frog packet.

"How do you have so many of these?" Penelope didn't even want to think how much these cost. They were struggling to pay rent on their own—well, rent _and_ the cost of Penelope's new robe collection.

Avis' smile made Penelope's heart go warm as another frog disappeared out into the sweltering weather.

"Mum sent me a box of these per week since I'd been to Hogwarts so I wouldn't starve to death," Marcus explained, rubbing his neck as he tossed Penelope another packet of the chocolate frogs. "As smashing as I am, Clearwater, I can't eat fifty of these a week. I'd have torn out all my bloody teeth in ages ago if I tried. That is... if they hadn't rotten out of my head by the amount of sugar in these buggers alone."

 _"Flint._ I'm Penelope Flint," she corrected. She didn't bother unwrapping the packet just yet. Speaking of teeth, her stomach lurched. "Marcus, why didn't you take Avis down to see your father?"

Marcus stiffened in his position. "What? Socking me when I was a nipper isn't enough of a reason?"

"He walked me down my wedding aisle," Penelope reminded him. "What he had done to you when you were younger didn't seem to bother you then. You believed that it was justified due to the whole Greek God debacle with Percy and him, so I was under the _assumption_ that everything was fine. _I_ didn't think that it was right to accept a child abuser, no matter what his reasons were but _I wanted to support you so I—"_

"I'd rather he kill me with his own fists than have him touch _my_ child!" Marcus yelled hotly. "There's always a chance that he's going to do her in, and if he does, then who's going to protect her? _Me?_ Come on, Clearwater, I couldn't protect my bloody self, so how am I supposed to help her if he ever..."

Penelope stared at him. Her heart was pounding into her chest. "I... I didn't know that you didn't trust him not to harm you..." her voice was small. " _But you see still him!_ What if he does _you_ in?"

"I can handle it," Marcus coolly insisted. "I get into more intense fights with those bloody muggle paperclips you insist on using to pin our parchment paper together."

"Do you know you have a tendency to do that?" Penelope mumbled, placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it softly. His shoulders slumped at her touch. "You don't tend to tell people what your problems are, leading me to think that nothing is wrong, but I know that something is wrong because quite frankly, you're too nice for your own good... _that_ , and you never complain about _anything_... unless it's about the fact that your Quidditch team has seemed to have lost another game."

Marcus' eyes were just about to bulge out of his sockets. "Did you just say that I was too _nice_ for my own good? For Salazar's sake, do you even _know_ who you married, Clearwater?"

 _"Flint,"_ Penelope corrected again, running her hand through her golden locks. "Yes, I am very aware of whom I married, and I love him very much. I know that it is a bit odd that we had to sit down and negotiate the amount of 'lovey dovey bollocks' that we can show off in public, but we did come to a fine conclusion. I'm asking for something similar now. I know who I married. I know that you are not the most open and talkative person in the universe—well, about subjects that are not vulgar or Quidditch related. I've been married to you for a year and you still refuse to tell me when your birthday is. _This, as you know, lead me to picking a random day for your birthday so I could give you a present so I don't end up feeling like a true bitch but_ —"

"What are you actually saying, Clearwater?" Marcus cut her off, disinterested. "I didn't know you swear."

" _Flint_ —and I don't swear. It was a slip of the tongue," Penelope said, rolling her eyes. "All I'm saying is that maybe this is a good time for you to share. That is if you value your mother's sanity, because I _will_ tell her that you're afraid of being socked by him... _if_ you don't provide me with the information that _I_ want."

Marcus snorted and then beamed. "You're blackmailing me."

"That's such an aggressive term," Penelope crossed her arms. "I prefer the term... _um_..."

"Extortion?" Marcus offered, pulling up old but soft yellow blankets over a sleeping Avis only for Penelope to smack his arm away as lightly as she could because she did not think that it was fair to do anything to him than she wouldn't want him to do to her. "Exaction? Bribery?"

"Are you implying _our marriage_ is a business arrangement?" Penelope snapped at him.

Marcus turned to the bouquet of roses, and picked out a lone pink rose in the middle of the bouquet. He snapped one of the petals and then offered the flower back at her.

"Here are the rules," Marcus began in a stern voice. "The one sat with a petal loses. If it's you, you stop talking. If it's me, I start talking. _Fair?"_

"How uncouth and trivial," Penelope mumbled, grabbing the rose from Marcus. "I just gave birth to a baby not only twenty-four hours ago and instead of being coddled about, I'm forced to ruin a perfect gorgeous flower because my husband refuses to tell me what's wrong with him... and when his birthday is!"

" _You're_ the one that wanted to go to work, Miss I-Want-To-Be-Coddled-About. If you wanted to be coddled, you wouldn't have married me," Marcus watched as Penelope tore off all the petals, leaving one crooked petal in her wake and then offered it back to him.

"There," Penelope mumbled. " _I_ win—"

Marcus tore the petal away, grabbed her hand and placed it on her cheek where a flattened petal laid. "You lose," he leaned up to her six-foot frame to hungrily press their lips together. "My birthday is in February."

Penelope seemed satisfied with this answer as she watched him turn to the cot to watch Avis sleep.

"Wait," she realised. _"What day in February, Marcus?"_ Penelope wanted to kill him when she saw him smirk.

PERCY was not comfortable standing in the Burrow like this. He was in a carroty raincoat that matched the small tuft of hair he still had, boots that were charmed to repel water molecules and a wrecked umbrella that cost enough to feed his family for a month. He had decided he would rather die than have a speck of dirt on him—he believed it was a reasonable side-effect to living with horklumps for the past few years. Just before he'd left Audrey's flat, he'd hit himself with a dozen or so scouring charms. He had actually found himself attempting to wipe away his freckles with soap. All he'd done was nearly scrub his skin off.

A flood of memories hit him as Percy stared over at the house that he used to call his own.

Six-year-old Percy being given the biggest slice of rhubarb and custard pie during Christmas, even if Percy loathed rhubarb. Seven-year-old Percy climbing up in Molly and Arthur's beds when he was feeling frightened and Molly placing a disillusionment charm just so his father wouldn't say that Percy was too old to be afraid of the dark. Eight-year-old Percy sitting with Arthur Weasley, reading a big ole Ministry book that he found boring but Percy found exhilarating. Percy writing his first big adult report for his father, surprising Arthur that morning. Nine-year-old Percy winning his first Quidditch game, even if he knew that Bill, Charlie and the twins purposely let him win. Ten-year-old Percy being hugged _first_ by Molly, even when Bill and Charlie had just come home from Hogwarts...

As the warmth filled his body, a dead coldness overtook, allowing him to shudder.

Sixteen-year-old Percy going on hunger strike when they refused to let him write an owl to his mother. He got to his seventh day before he fainted even though he was in supine position. Seventeen-year-old Percy climbing on the wall of his cell an staying there for forty-eight hours because they refused to let him write an owl to his mother. Eighteen-year-old Percy Weasley attempting to steal parchment paper from a nurse's clipboard so that he could write a letter to his mother. Nineteen-year-old Percy given a deadline of a week to write an owl to his mum and he did write it—in the darkness with a broken wrist. Twenty-year-old Percy's miles long letter to his mother being burned slowly over the candlelight by a discontented nurse...

Percy slowly paddled his way to the front of the Burrow, his shoulders slumped and his stomach in knots.

He was gripping so tightly onto his umbrella that his knuckles had become white.

Percy straightened up his back, stared at his family house and then turned to leave, quickly bumping into a brown-haired figure that had just apparated on the spot. Percy immediately reeled back, mostly because he was in contact with mud _for a whole second._ Percy was terrified because his raincoat and umbrella were charmed to the point where the smallest contact with anything filthy or muddy or dusty could—

The figure was not only trudged in enough mud to make Percy's stomach twist, but had their shoulders slumped in defeat. Their eyes were rimmed red, obviously from crying. They were in oddly familiar robes; dark blue with two crossed long, thin golden bulrushes as an emblem. In their hand was a broken broom, which looked exceedingly new and expensive. Percy couldn't be able to tell what broom it was if his life depended on it—quite a step down from the nine-year-old Percy that used to sit down with Charlie and read copies of _Which Broomstick?_ in his endless attempts to have Charlie notice him. If Percy recalled correctly, Charlie _did_ notice him. Percy had accidentally sat on his cheese toastie that day.

" _What_ in Godric's great name are you?" the Scot said in irritation, arching his eyebrows.

Percy was about to find it in himself to give a witty reply but instead all he said was, "...Clean."

The buttons on Percy's fastened raincoat was starting to overload with water. Percy realised right then that he probably shouldn't have added the fifty-third scouring charm on his clothing.

"You _must_ hold this to prevent a catastrophe from occurring!" Percy shoved the umbrella to the Scot.

Percy attempted to use his skeletal hands to prevent his raincoat from bursting. No such luck, as at the same time that Percy's raincoat erupted with water, the Scot received a _tantalising_ shower with Percy's orange umbrella. Soap formed in Percy's hands, feet and mouth as his body start to coat with washes and lotions.

Percy was about to slip just when he attempted to catch hold of the brown-haired bloke, whose shoulders was so lathered that Percy couldn't really catch hold of him. Both of them succumbed to the grass (Percy had never been subjected to slippery grass before this particular day) and before Percy could say another word, two other muddy redheads apparated beside them. Percy's big blue eyes widened into dinner plates. _Mud near his exceedingly charmed umbrella_... this was _not_ a good combination!

They barely managed to scream in terror as a new horrific wave of sterilised water came washing over them, slamming their bodies into Burrow's door... which _wouldn't_ have been a problem if Molly Weasley hadn't decided, in that brimming moment, to open the door to see what the fuss was all about!


	45. Chapter 45

_lads, the reason i'm forgetting to update is because i rarely get review notifications on this thing to remember (yes, honestly.) so drop some feedback. make me make this fanfiction a priority again! i promise i do not bite._

 _warnings still applicable. i'm not reiterating them again. they've been hammered in past 40 and so chapters. they only heavier and heavier._

 ** _review reply:_**

 _ **Phoenixx Rising** : yes, Percy is really in an interesting... headspace. writing this was actually so interesting because even though i'm writing Percy, i honestly couldn't tell what he was going to do... at any time! writing the reuniting scene was amazing though :)_

* * *

Chapter Forty-Five

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That exceptional evening, Molly hit her head over a _scorching_ tray of pistachio brownies and had been hoping to put a little ice on the small little bump on her head as soon as possible—least her head swelled up so big that she'd think that she was the Minister of Magic.

That was _before_ she opened the door and was hit by a wave of ice-cold water and four blokes.

 _"FRED! GEORGE!"_ Molly waved about her short, pudgy arms in anger as she sat up from where she was sitting. She felt like she'd been hit by a wet Bludger. _"THIS IS NOT FUNNY!"_

 _"IT WAS PERCY!"_ Fred and George immediately exclaimed, an orange raincoat at their feet. _"HONEST!"_

 _"I DON'T CARE IF..."_ Molly felt like she'd been hit by another Bludger, but this time in her chest. _"Percy...?"_

Her honey-rimmed chocolate brown eyes stared over at what she _assumed_ to have once been her fifteen-year-old Percy. He was dressed in a pair of thin burgundy trousers and a honey-coloured button-down that had been fastened up to the topmost button. There were dark bags evident underneath his big blue eyes that were so prominent that they looked like he'd been socked twice. Molly couldn't help but attack him and pull him close to her frame. Judging from the feel of Percy's ribs and spine thud against her freckled hands, Molly was sure that he'd returned to his birth weight.

Percy had tossed his umbrella and thrown it aside to the kitchen. He did not hug her back and seemed to be waiting for this embrace to end— _just the way she wanted it!_

Throwing the umbrella away didn't seem to be a good move, because just when Molly was probably about to give Percy a disc herniation from her hug, another surge of water came from the kitchen and they were all hit—not only by the icy water but also with Molly's _many_ batches of _hot, hot, HOT!_ pistachio brownies.

 _"Percy?"_ Molly had kept her hand on his elbow as they'd been assaulted by their pudding. He stared over at her with a look of displeasure, probably due to the fact that he looked like he'd walked through a wedding cake. _Hermes_ seemed to think so, because he greeted Percy by attacking him with his beak. The owl immediately started to dig into Percy's hair for pistachios. "Percy as in my favourite child _Percy?"_

 _"Mum!"_ Percy exclaimed, turning into the same shade as his trousers as he stared at his owl with a look of a grudging excitement. "I—I... I..."

His flushed deepened dramatically, which Molly hadn't thought was impossible.

"I... I seem to have misplaced my words for this occasion," Percy suddenly blurted out.

Molly couldn't really believe it. "Is it really you? I wouldn't have recognised you if—"

"Honestly woman," Fred decided to say, a grin finding its way to his face as he turned to give a playful slap on Percy's back, whom in turn looked like he had accidentally swallowed a bad batch of liquorice wands. Hermes glowered over at the twin. "You call yourself his mother? Can't you tell that he's Percy?"

"Did we find your words for ya, Perce?" George said, prodding away at Percy's side.

"I would _not_ have used those words. Instead, what I would've said was—what I mean to say is... what I'm attempting to get right out with is... what Fred and George are insisting that I..." Percy began.

Percy furrowed his eyebrows, and he suddenly said: _"Mum, I didn't mean to cause the great flood of Devon!"_

"Of course you didn't! Oh Merlin, it doesn't matter! I'm so chuffed! You're here, _right in front of me!_ Godric, Percival, it's been _six years_ since I've last seen you or heard from you! It's almost as if you were wiped out of existence. I don't even know what to begin to say..." Molly's grip tightened around his frame, and then she pulled away only to place a hand on his cheek. "Oh, I am so, _so_ happy to see you!"

"Mum, _please_ ," Percy begged, turning into an interesting shade of blue.

"Right, right! I'm sorry," Molly pulled away, her heart beating wildly in her chest. "Do you fancy a cuppa?"

"What?" Percy called out in confusion as he rubbed his neck. "Oh... yes! _Tea!_ Of course! Wait... _no!_ "

Molly was not sure what to make of this. Percy was acting like having a cuppa was a life or death decision.

"Oliver, love, you'll been awfully quiet since you've been in," Molly stared over at shaggy-haired bloke, noticing how he sulked in the corner as she fawned over Percy. "Why don't we both go put the kettle on, have a nice cuppa together and talk about what's bothering you? Percy, you could have a cuppa too. Oh wait, you didn't— _um_... I—do you want a biscuit? I _did_ make brownies but—"

"Mum, Percy doesn't want a cuppa," Fred insisted, grabbing Percy's arm. "We're taking him to the shop!"

"What shop?" Percy echoed, and that was when he stared at George— _really_ staring at George. All his blood seemed to have taken a trip to Diagon Alley, because he was absolutely colourless.

"Percy?" Fred squeaked out, only for an eruption to occur. "Are you—?"

 _"GEORGE, WHERE IN GODRIC'S GOOD NAME IS YOUR OTHER EAR?!"_ Percy's eyes were wider than dinner plates and he was hyperventilating as if he'd done a few games of Quidditch.

"Oh, _this_?" George pointed to his missing ear, and then grinned.

Percy didn't find this amusing. "No, the _other_ ear," he spat out, as he collapsed on old, scarlet loveseat.

"It's a long story," George decided to say.

"A very long story," Fred nodded his head.

Both perked up and asked in unison, "Do you want to hear it?"

Percy glared at them, "No." They frowned, but looked like they were about to launch into the story anyway.

"Maybe you should show Percy your shop later, sweethearts," Molly said before they went off about the war, Death Eaters and Harry. Not exactly light teatime conversation now (not that Percy wanted tea...) "Percy needs his rest after all! He's had a long— _um_ —"

"Bath," Percy mumbled under his breath, as he smoothed out his clothing. Hermes had stopped paying attention to him now that he wasn't covered in brownies.

"You're right, mum. We'll take him later," Fred said, surprising Molly.

Molly smiled warmly. Who said that the twins didn't value her opinion one bit?

Turning to the kitchen to see that Oliver was already there, dry and nursing a cuppa, she sat down on the stool and poured a cup for herself. As she hummed, she tried to stop herself from going frantic. Percy was _here_ , and she hadn't tidied up his closet, done up his laundry, put back those stack of books that Remus ( _whomwasdeaddeadead_ ) had borrowed and when was the last time that she'd cleaned Hermes cage...?

She nearly dropped her cup when she heard a _POP_ sounded out along with the sounds of the twins boisterously calling out, _"Mum... it's later!"_

TERENCE Higgs was standing outside Marcus Flint's flat, a feeling of complete apprehension, discontentment and complete terror sat in his narrow shoulders.

It may be due to the fact that standing beside him was an absolutely furious Oliver Wood. He looked like he was about to tear down buildings with the sheer force of his wrath. Every time he breathed out, his humongous chiselled chest expanded and Terence felt like he had to stay out of Wood's way because he didn't want to turn into a vicious fluid any time soon. Terence's stomach was flipping faster than the pancakes that his mum used to make for him when he was a little nipper. At the thought of his mum, his shoulders slumped down in defeat. His hand gripped tightly on the phial that he was holding, before he decided to pocket it into his tattered, once-tasteful forest green robes.

Marcus opened the door whilst attempting to balance an overgrown child to his hip.

 _"Marcus, I'm going to kill him,"_ Oliver sounded out all in one breath.

Terence nearly choked on his own saliva when he caught sight of Marcus. Never had he seen such big bags under someone's eyes and never had he seen Marcus so _happy_ in his life. Terence nearly wanted to search the house for giant-sized phials of euphoria-inducing elixirs.

"Wood, you can't kill him," Marcus reminded him. "Weasel still owes me two Sickles for the hot chocolate I bought him when we were first years."

Oliver shoved a couple of Sickles in the front pocket of Marcus' robes. "I don't care. I'm going to—"

"Higgs?" Marcus' part-troll baby started to cry but Marcus was so stunned he'd ignored her. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you even know where I live?—Godric, you smell worse than- _than me!"_

Terence's eyes were locked on the gap between Marcus' teeth, where his middle tooth once was. A well-deserved pang of pain made his chest ache.

Oliver's eyes turned to Terence's face. He looked like he was about to pound it in.

"I thought my presence would denote more excitement," Terence weakly stated.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Higgs, you seemed to have hit your head hard during the Battle of Hogwarts, because from what _I_ remember, last time we saw each other, you had me pinned down to my bed as you force-fed me Cockroach Clusters. I couldn't get all the legs out of my mouth for weeks. You're lucky I didn't slam the door in your bloody face the minute I saw you."

Terence was _exceedingly_ lucky that Marcus hadn't slammed the door in his face the minute that he saw him.

"Why didn't you?" Terence echoed. Marcus gave him more chances than he'd like to admit.

Marcus snorted; a sardonic smile found its way to his lips. "Do you _want_ me to slam the door in your face?"

Oliver stepped inside and actually did slam the door in Terence's face, only for Marcus to open the door back up again, shooting an irritated look towards the Scot.

"What?" Oliver said, noticing how irritated Marcus looked like. "It's not my fault that the sick bastard deserves it for every bloody time he slammed the door in _your_ face when you were just about to leave your dorm." He glanced over at Terence, "Do you think _I_ don't remember, Higgs?"

"Shut up, Wood," Marcus reminded him. "It's _my_ flat."

"You're not very good at being a Slytherin here, Flint," Oliver reminded him, before taking the baby from Marcus' arms. His entire face lit up as he pulled her up. Her chubby hands balled into fists. "Hey, Avy! Look at how fast you're growing up. It seemed like just a week ago, you were a newborn babe."

"It _was_ a week ago, Wood," Marcus said in contentment. "Get in, Higgs. It's bloody hot outside."

"You aren't going to be doing anymore tricks with chocolate frogs, are you? Remember last week when you kept on letting chocolate frogs fly out the window? Even though it's bloody blistering outside," Oliver said, his anger dissipating into good humour and a bright beam. "And then I visited you that night— _I was so sloshed_ —and ended up drowning over that accidental chocolate river that you had made just outside your flat. Merlin, I'm going to get back you for that."

Marcus scoffed. "And drowning in chocolate bothers you? You drown yourself after every game you lose!"

Terence only offered a weak smile as the two chattered on. He hadn't had a civil conversation with him since first year and seeing Oliver and Marcus go about it made him feel jealous.

Terence could lucidly remember his seventh year, which was filled with days of putting itching powder in Marcus' hair and arse (this was only funny until Marcus nearly tore off his skin from all the scratching), spitting into Marcus' tea cup when he wasn't looking and Adrian's owl eating away at Marcus' subpar homework minutes before he had to hand in an assignment.

Marcus gestured for Terence to follow him in and then just as Terence willed himself in, he was hit by a pair of Marceline's hand-me-downs and a pair of non-descript black underpants.

"Go take a shower, Higgs, before my sweet, innocent child suffocates," Marcus stated.

"And your sweet, innocent mate," Oliver insisted, offering a smirk.

Marcus only rolled his eyes and turned to look over at the Scot, "You're as sweet as a pack of apple rings and you're just about as innocent as Pansy Parkinson after a few shots of firewhiskey."

Feeling very out of place, Terence nodded his head towards Marcus, even though the part-troll wasn't paying any attention to him anymore. With slumped shoulders, he walked the bathroom was, not bothering to ask for directions because Marcus' flat was smaller than a house elf and he didn't want to interrupt the two blokes that were invested in each other's companies.

Terence hadn't hot a nice hot bath for ages. The warm water hit his stiff shoulders and he relaxed, easing into the feel. His stomach dropped when he heard Marcus laugh. He hadn't heard Marcus _laugh_ in so long he actually forgot that it was possible to make him laugh. He also forgot that Marcus' laugh was so bloody annoying that Terence wanted to grab one of his plimsolls and smack it over the part-troll's head.

As he went on with his shower, he used as little of Marcus' shampoos, washes and lotions as he could. He spent ten minutes just surveying the triage of feminine hair products lying about. His eyes fell onto the bathroom counter, where a bouquet of dying red roses sat. The walls were pale and glittery. The whole bathroom smelled vaguely of something floral, something that was not from the bouquet. In other words, a woman had definitely been in here... _recently_ , and was definitely living here with Marcus, and had possibly given birth to Marcus' one-week-old-but-looked-three-years-old part-troll baby.

Did he know that Marcus had a bird living with him before his shower? No.

Terence wondered why he hadn't received a wedding invitation. It may be because in sixth year, they used an _Engorgio_ on Marcus' fingers before an exam and he could barely write the little that he did know about Care of Magical Creatures because each finger looked to be the thickness of a Whomping Willow's branch, or maybe because in their seventh year, they had once turned all of Marcus' school robes into a frilly pink, and for a whole semester, Marcus had blokes scornfully hit on him...

He'd worn Marceline's robes and pocketed the phial from his other robe. He felt himself grow ill at the thought of the bollocks he'd pulled during school for no other reason than the fact that Adrian didn't like Marcus anymore, so that meant that he and Miles couldn't associate with Marcus either.

He felt ill at the thought of what he was going to Marcus _now_...

BY the time that Terence had left the bathroom, he was surprised at the sight of Penelope and Oliver sitting beside Marcus, chattering on about. There was no moment where Marcus interrupted her and told her to leave him alone and go play with her giant books. Oliver seemed to just about barely stand her with the way his lips kept on curling up whenever she said anything that was remotely irritating (read: _everything_ she said).

Penelope met Terence's eyes, and then a blazing fury took over. It was like she knew why he was _really_ there.

Terence felt his stomach tie up in knots, as she glowered over at him. Marcus' smile faded away in seconds, as Penelope's glower intensified.

"I'm done playing mortal games," Penelope decided, her eyes darkening. "This is the last straw."

Terence tried to explain. "I—"

"Ares sent you," Penelope mumbled, standing up from her position. "Didn't he, Terence?"

Terence felt like he was suffocating, but he shook his head. "Athena."

"Let me make an assumption," Penelope said, before she wandered over to him, grabbing the phial that he'd just shifted from his old robes into Marceline's pocketed robes. The liquid was a vibrant pink, like a harmless little love potion from Fred and George's joke shop. Funny given what it could do. Funny given what it would've done to Marcus. "You were going to _torture_ him, weren't you? With _this_?"

"What?" Oliver's face turned into red from rage as he gripped tightly onto Marcus' hand over protectively.

Terence met with Marcus' eyes. The part-troll stared over at him with a look of betrayal and bewilderment.

"Athena wants to know why he sent that letter and what exactly did it say," Penelope said calmly. "Which _you_ know about because that's why Athena sent you. Percy hadn't had a fit after that letter after all. Marcus ruined her game. Athena's about to have kittens, isn't she, Terence? Mind you, that's the only thing that virtuous Athena would _ever_ give birth to. The universe thinks that she's such a saint. She's worse than Hades if you anger her enough and the only reason she doesn't have any children is because she can't have any!"

 _"What..."_ Marcus began, his blood stewing, _"the hell is going on?"_

Penelope turned to face Marcus, and then laughed. "Oh, for being the bloke that somehow understood how Athena's gift of epilepsy benefits Percy, you sure are dense."

"What letter?" Oliver echoed. Terence didn't answer. "You sent Weasel a letter in the ward?"

"I sent a letter, telling him what Athena was trying to do with his... _epilepsy_... and why it's a bloody gift instead of a curse," Marcus said the word _epilepsy_ almost as if it didn't exist, almost as if Percy had never had an actual fit. He flicked his eyes from Penelope to Terence, his face perfectly still.

Oliver looked surprised. "Marcus, I—"

 _"Who are you?"_ Marcus asked, his eyes locked firmly on Penelope's frame. "Because you're _not_ Clearwater."

She then snorted again. "I'm Aphrodite," she explained. "You sent the letter to the ward last year. After which, Percy ceased to have fits and from what Athena knows, you'd explained the rules of the game to Percy... which she loathes because he was supposed to figure it out on his own! She doesn't think he's worth saving if he requires a part-troll's help to understand her little _gift!_ But she wouldn't kill you. She'd just torture you mindlessly for tarnishing her ploy and then hand you over to Ares, whom _will_ kill you. Personally, _I_ don't understand why she's so pissed. You are part of the Oracle's prophecy after all. It's why Ares possessed your father and tried to beat you to submission all these years back! Ares thought that if you thought that you were incredible dumb, you wouldn't try to be the hero of the day by sending that Zeus forsaken letter."

" _You're_ the reason he's out of the ward," Oliver realised with a confounded expression. "How could you do that to me, Flint? I thought we were mates. I thought we were best mates and _now, I'm bloody stuck with that tosser because of you!_ I don't want to share a room with him! I don't want to live with him. The Burrow is _my_ house now. I got it fair and square. I fought with the Order. I nearly lost me life for them. I—"

"Shut up with your pity party, Wood. I wasn't going to let the Weasel be tortured to death just because you got issues with sharing your chocolate buttons," Marcus snapped back; hardness forming in his grey eyes.

Oliver's eyes darkened. "He doesn't even _want_ his own family!"

"You're basing this off the fact that he ran away when he was ten?" Marcus huffed, snorting. "When I was ten, I was convinced I was bent until I had me first kiss with a bloke and realised I'd rather kiss a Dementor!"

That definitely caught Terence's ears. "Really? Who'd you snog?"

"Someone that _is_ actually bent. It's—" Marcus was cut off.

Suddenly, a triage of doves erupted out of nowhere and Oliver jolted up, nearly dropping baby Avis from his arms but fortunately, he steadied himself easily. Terence's heart had done a flip but he remained seated.

 _"What did you write to him?"_ Aphrodite asked, raising an eyebrow. "What was the key in the puzzle? I want to know if I should I be fighting against your little friend or stand _with_ him! Ares has gone too far and I cannot side with him anymore. If he continues with this, and he succeeds, Olympus will be in ruins and I cannot let that happen. Athena's rounding up armies against Percy. You've made a very powerful enemy here. If it wasn't for me, you'd have been tortured within an inch of your life thanks to sweet little Terence here."

Terence tried to defend himself. "I-I didn't have a choice! She threatened me!"

"My family will not be jeopardised because of your Gryffindor hero complex, Marcus," Penelope snapped.

"I'm not in bloody Gryffindor," Marcus mumbled in annoyance. "And I don't have a ruddy hero complex just because I don't want someone to be tortured to fucking death."

The anger melted from his face. "There's just one thing I don't understand."

"There's more than one thing you don't understand, Marcus," Aphrodite replied, rolling her eyes. It was odd for Terence to hear Penelope use words like this and be so acerbic towards anyone. He knew that it wasn't _really_ Penelope but it didn't change his feelings towards the situation.

"You've been... _with_ me for a year," Marcus expressed. "All of that was just... Aphrodite masquerading as Penelope Clearwater, attempting to weed out information from me?"

"I _wish_ I could weed out information from you!" Aphrodite snapped coldly. "You're harder to get into the Restricted Section in Hogwarts! You don't say anything about your life to anyone!"

Marcus' face crumpled in pain. "It was... _all_ a lie?"

"Yes, get it through your thick head. Women do _not_ normally decide to get married after two weeks of dating! The actual Penelope Clearwater would probably rather die than date you; much less get married to you! The only reason I did was because I'm the Goddess of beauty, love and fertility and I thought that this would be an assured way of weeding out information! But it's _not_. You are so bloody dense that I find it hilarious that we're sat here, wondering what Athena's been thinking when she'd given Ares' vessel epilepsy and here you are, with the answer! _You're just so bloody stupid that I_ —" Aphrodite spat out viciously.

"If I'm denser than lead and _I_ know the answer, then what does that make _you_?" Marcus snapped coldly.

Aphrodite smirked and then said, "Marcus, why do you have to be so difficult?"

Marcus stared vacantly at her and Terence felt that solid feeling in his stomach worsen. "You made me fall in love with a lie," he spat out coldly. "I'd rather have taken the physical torture."

"You say that now, but wait until you're actually physically tortured," Aphrodite snorted, running her hand through long blonde locks. "You don't know true pain, Marcus Flint. You don't know what they could make you feel just by looking at you. If Athena really did get her hands on you, she'd bend your mind until your brain explodes! Which... wouldn't take much effort now that I think of it now, would it?"

"Hey, stop it!" Oliver exclaimed, looking extremely confused yet seemed to be catching up. "Stop talking down on my mate like that!"

"Or what?" Aphrodite inquired.

Marcus closed his eyes. "Just..." he bit down his lower lip. "Just let her go! Clearwater had nothing to do with this. She doesn't deserve this— _this bloody imprisonment_."

"Flint," Aphrodite corrected, and then laughed deafeningly. Marcus looked like he was about to cry. "What are you going to do it? Force me out? You're just a mortal!"

Marcus' eyes darkened. "I'll tell you what I wrote. It's what you want after all... right?"

 _"You better be joking,"_ Terence and Oliver said at the same time. Terence had never agreed with Oliver on anything until today, but he could tell that this would be a great mistake.

"You love her," Aphrodite realised, looking close to laughing. "You _actually_ love her!"

Marcus opened his mouth to deny her statement but then slowly nodded his head.

"This is pathetic," Aphrodite called out. "I don't think I've seen anything that is _so sad_. You actually thought a woman wanted to marry _you_! You're no Adonis, love and you're certainly nothing that should peak any woman's interest, especially not _this one!_ From my vessel's memories, I could tell that she's smart, successful, beautiful and very gifted. And you? _You're nothing!_ "

Marcus shrank down in his couch. Then something seemed to burn into his chest.

He grabbed something from underneath his couch. Terence managed to recognise an arrow. Marcus stabbed Penelope in her shoulder. It must have some sort of god-like power or property, because the lights in the flat flickered on and off, an ear-piercing scream sounded out and Terence saw a glimmer of a white light before it disappeared. The lights were back on and Marcus was cradling a shaky, tormented Penelope into his arms.

"Now, you explain, Flint," Terence said, his hand on his cheek. "What the hell was that?"

"You were going to torture me," Marcus said, his voice cutting. "Why should I explain anything to you?"

Terence was silent. Marcus' lips quivered. "It's one of Artemis' arrows. I hung onto them after a run in years ago. They had a trace amount of poison on them that's apparently painful to them Gods. I figured out that it's a mild poison they use for keeping doxies out of the bloody house, barely hurts you, but to them, it's almost like the Cruciatus. I just... covered the arrow in it just in case something like this was ever to happen because _I have the best bloody luck in the world_ and..." his voice trailed off. "Bloody hell, I'm taking her to St Mungo's."

Terence was surprised hearing this explanation from Marcus, but he felt like he shouldn't be. "Yeah, you should head over to the hospital," Terence said airily. "That's a bit of a nasty nick she has there."


	46. Chapter 46

_this chapter... i don't know how to feel about it. things are settling in. there will be a few filler chapters just to get around how the characters feel around each other, e.g. interaction between Percy and the rest of his family, Audrey's involvement, and the whole plotline between Marcus, Oliver, Terence and Penelope. though i didn't write the scenes, it's generally hinted that the Greek God debacle is becoming more of a common knowledge around people centered indirectly or directly into Percy's life (e.g. Holly's reaction, Oliver trying to come to terms with it, etc). the incredulity that came with it had gone and past basically. as for **Penelope's** point of view, i tried to go deeper into her emotions about the situation but thought that i could just use dialogue and write the narrative as it goes because there is just so much for her to say about the situation. i bet you i could probably write a whole chapter dedicated to it, but i wouldn't. mostly because it'll be overly dramatic and meaningless. _

_so off the plot goes!_

 _Ares hasn't been mentioned in a few chapters, though other Greek Gods have been. the more so obvious reason is that Artemis had stole his vessel. that, and Percy did give the cut-off point being a year this is a lot of things that happen in the background between the Greek Gods, and none of it has its own point of view. the wizarding world sort of try to catch up with whatever is going on with the Greek plotline (which i wouldn't write because it requires too many fighting/duelling scenes which i am **APPALLING**_ _at and the fact that this is a Harry Potter fanfiction, even if Harry only makes small guest appearances.) thus, with that out of the way... enjoy!_

 _ **review reply:**_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising** **:** i think this fanfiction has taken its toll on him. i almost torture him as much as i torture ole Percy. funny considering i didn't even plan for him to be that involved into this plot!_

* * *

Chapter Forty-Six

* * *

The minute that Percy was apparated into the twins' shop, he felt his head pound at the assault of sheer colour. The last time he'd seen such vibrant colours was at a gay parade!

As Percy's head swirled, he nearly ran into a display (well, not exactly _ran_ given his dodgy leg.)

Percy stared over at the array of fireworks, most of them with terrifying sounding names (why name a bunch of fireworks _Diabolic Dare Devils_ or _Thestral Thrashers?_ These sounded like wizarding weaponry sold to Aurors to help them keep the peace in the nation!). Momentarily, Percy wondered how loud they were before logic seemed to encumber his excitement over the fact that _maybe_ , he might look for Pucey's residence and throw a bunch of these over just to see that a grown man piss himself. Merlin, underneath this cold, stern exterior, he was _just_ like the rest of his brothers. What a worrisome thought.

Just as Percy turned his head away from the display, he was hit by a box of orange sweets.

Percy cautiously stared at it. Otters Fizzy Orange Juice. "Let me guess," he said, his voice flat. "If I were to consume these juice solids, I would have my mouth fizz up to the point where I can choke on the foam."

"Nope," George said. "It's just a carbonated orange drink in solid form, but—"

"—we like that idea better!" Fred exclaimed, only for Percy's cheeks to colour in deeply.

Percy turned around and saw a display of a particular purple stuffed cat staring back at him. He'd flushed into a brighter hue, especially taking in the title of these little mongrels. _Penelope's Purple Pussy Cats_. He couldn't even begin to believe these two. He turned around to see George snickering. Fred seemed to have disappeared and knots were beginning to form in Percy's stomach. He did _not_ want in his few hours at home in six years to be ruined by a practical joke!

"What are _these_?" Percy looked at the creatures that resembled Puffskeins but were incredibly small in comparison. "And more importantly, do you have a licence to breed them?"

"Calm down, Perce. They're Pygmy Puffs!" Fred defended, as he appeared from wherever he'd disappeared off to. "They aren't dangerous. Ginny owns one."

Percy supposed that was a _no_ to owning a licence to breed these monstrosities. Knowing the twins, ten years from now, there would be an outbreak of these creatures and their poor mum would somehow get the blunt of it. "You're making me gauge how safe a thing is based on whether or not _Ginny_ has one?"

"I see your point," Fred said, with a snort. His hand wandered down to a box of sweets and then turned to show them to Percy, grinning wildly. "These are our most popular item, Perce—and they bloody well should be. It took us years to be able to get this done without any harmful side effects!"

"See, you take one end, and it makes you sick so you can avoid all your responsibilities," George grinned wildly as he continued, "and the other end makes you feel normal again. We've got Fever Fudge, Fainting Fancies, Nosebleed Nougat, and Puking Pastilles!"

"I seem to have lost my appetite," Percy replied, and he actually had one to begin with. "I wonder if you've considered what would happen if someone that already has an ailment consumes one of these?"

Percy supposed that someone that had fainted wouldn't fancy a sweetie and someone that was vomiting would already throw up that pastille before it became digested.

"Lee has nosebleeds sometimes," Fred explained. "I had him have a Nosebleed Nougat just to see what happens and... Merlin, he had to be sent to the emergency room in St Mungo's! He was like a tap that just wouldn't close, even when we've given him the other end! Poor bloke."

"So, when are you going to tell us about how dangerous and terrifying these are?" George asked.

Percy furrowed in his eyebrows. "Why bother when you lot have never listened to a word I said?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation.

"That's not fair, Perce!" Fred argued, frowning deeply. "We listened to you when you discreetly told mum about the rash that you had on your bottom when you were in your third year!"

Percy rolled his eyes. "That's enough sightseeing for me," he wondered how trashed the poor Ministry sod was when he came to the shop and said that it was up to Ministry standards and wasn't violating any laws. "I would like to be escorted to a room now, please. Or a vacant couch."

"Wait," George was surprised. "You're staying _here_?"

"With _us_?" Fred called out in a similar shocked tone, "where we can prank you at any time in the day, multiple times in a day with any number of these items or any prototypes in the works?"

George shook his head in disbelief. It might have something to do with the fact that all of Percy's life was revolved around staying as far away from these two as possible. "Perce, I know we're exceeding dashing and attain the interest of many, but our flat is just above our joke shop," he pointed to the stairs just beside the counter and cashier. "Do you _really_ want to live with us?"

"You're doing _what?_ " a familiar voice roared through the joke shop. Percy had been a fool to think that Audrey would leave him alone for a few hours without checking up on him to make sure that he hadn't snuffed it in yet. Pleasant. "No, Percival, you are _not_ staying here! When I dropped you off at the Burrow, I did not anticipate that you'd make plans with these two hooligans about your living arrangements."

"Hey!" Fred exclaimed. "We aren't all that bad to live with."

"And who are you again?" George raised an eyebrow.

Audrey grabbed Percy by his elbow, pulling him towards her with her wrath. "At the moment, _I_ am the one that decides where he gets to stay and where he's staying at should not have objects that he could harm himself with. This place," she gestured towards the interior of a shop, "is _not_ ideal! I might as well have put him in a room filled with knives!"

Percy blushed deeply. "Audrey, _please_ ," he mumbled. He did not want his family to think that he should be thrown into the loony bin anymore than he wanted Audrey to be deciding where he should live. "I believe I am capable of deciding where I am to stay in for the night thank you very much."

"I believe you don't seem to recall the chat that we had three days ago!" Audrey huffed, but Percy did remember quite a few chats they had in the last few days. Given that his main attempts had been hitting himself by the wall until he bled out (his most recent form of self-harm), he had no doubt that Audrey _did_ have a point about his (lack of) mental stability, but he was too stubborn to accept it.

"Fine," Audrey decided, her face stern and her eyes glittering underneath the vibrant lights of Fred and George's shop. Even a blind mind could see the colours in this shop no doubt. "You can stay here, but _I'm_ staying with you... _and_ I'm bringing Lucy here too!"

Percy's eyes seemed to widen and the twins had mirrored expressions.

 _"What?"_ Fred and George called out simultaneously. "This isn't the Three Broomsticks Inn!"

"Who are you to make decisions for him anyway? _You're_ not his mother," George huffed.

"No, but _I am_ his girlfriend," Audrey sounded out, surprising Percy. From what he remembered, she'd said that she'd talk about their relationship when Percy got better. Either he was quick in his recovery, or she was desperate to have him hold her in his arms again ( _both_ of which were unlikely). Still, Percy felt a warm tingling up his spine and a fluster to his cheeks as he looked down. Apparently, from that reaction alone, Fred and George could tell that there really was _something_ between the two of them.

Fred and George's serious expression melted and two identical grins found their way to their face.

"Why didn't you say so?" Fred asked, grinning. "That changes everything! I wouldn't want to intrude between the blossoming relationships between poor Perce and his little lass!"

"And there's a Lucy you say?" George raised an eyebrow with a brazen smirk. "Is she available?"

Percy turned to look at Audrey, whom was wrapping her arms across her chest. She had slight smirk on her face, obviously directed towards Percy. "If you're looking for a playmate, she's _very_ available, seeing as she's my eight year old daughter."

"Oh, Perce, you've been holding out on your escapades, haven't you?" George grinned wildly.

"She's not _my_ daughter," Percy didn't know what he'd have done to himself if he really did get Audrey pregnant _when he was thirteen_. Appalling thought and not like him at all. They'd only snogged a few times! He had never touched her, and their kisses were extremely innocuous. He'd gotten more from his mum when he came home for the Christmas holidays. "Lucy doesn't even look like me!"

That was when he saw Audrey smirk again. He was going to kill her. Lucy was _not_ only a redhead with multiple freckles on her cheeks, but according to Audrey, she now also wore spectacles.

 _Merlin_ , why was he attracted to a madwoman? Why couldn't he be aroused by a woman that had some shard of mental sanity in their brains? Why was he attracted to women that were not the complete personification of everything that he'd been trying to run away from all his life? Percy would never know, but he was sure a psychiatric healer would have a field day with him attempting to answer such questions.

Percy started to regret his decision to stay with the twins immediately when a firework spontaneously went off for no reason and he'd nearly pissed himself from where he was standing, rendering Fred, George and Audrey into laughter. _Perhaps_ , that was Pucey getting back at him because nothing in the world ever happened the way that Percy Weasley wanted it to... not that he was pessimistic by nature or anything, no matter what Audrey, his mum, the whole of Hogwarts and an ancient Greek God insisted on telling him.

AT around six in the morning, a very awake Percy had found himself feeling abnormally uncomfortable in his body. He was not sure if it was even _his_ body that he was moving. His dodgy leg showed no signs of pain and yet, he wished that it would because there would be something there to distract him from his self-destructive thoughts that very bright morning. It wasn't even seven and he already wanted to snuff it in.

As Percy started to fantasise about harming his body in the most elaborate way with one of Fred and George's many deathly contraptions ( _yes_ , Audrey told him that this would happen and _yes_ , he was a fool for even doubting her for a second as here he was, yet again, attempting not to flip himself headfirst into the window and crash down into a bloody mess at the end of his brothers' joke shop not only twenty-four hours after his last attempt to end his miserable life). The only thought that prevented him from doing such a thing was that his parents and his siblings still did _not_ know the extent of his lunacy. If he did fling himself headfirst into the window into a terrifying death, then they would know that he was an unstable suicidal maniac and _that_ was such a humiliating thought. Percy refused to admit that he'd reduced himself to- _to this!_

At the same time, the thought of staying alive for another second seemed nearly impossible. He couldn't, he couldn't, he felt like he was suffocating under an unknown pressure and he could barely breathe. Every neuron in his body was incited with the goal of simply snapping his body into two halves. He had an exhaustion racking up in his bones that he couldn't even begin to fathom.

As Percy stood up, turning to look down at his pyjamas... or rather, _Audrey's_ dark red pyjamas that had multiple brooms flying on them. The length was perfect on him, which meant it had to have been too long on Audrey. As for the size, it was hanging off him as not only did he have no body fat, he also had no hips or breasts to speak of... which he was glad for because he had no desire to be a woman. The only guilt that came to him was that he was doing _this_ in _Audrey's clothing_ , but oh well. Audrey was due wake up in an hour anyway, as she always turned to the hospital at nine on Wednesday mornings. Thus, she should be able to wash out the bloodstains off this without much of an issue. That was, _if_ blood was in his ploy—

Percy's heart nearly stopped into his chest when he found an eight-year-old Lucy in matching pyjamas to his, fixing her spectacles, holding an old large book to her chubby frame and staring over at the Pygmy Puffs with a excited look over at them.

"I want one of _theeeese_!" Lucy said, pointing to the Pygmy Puffs, which were on the highest shelf. Percy might not have been able to reach them even if he attempted to stretch up on a chair to get to them, and he was six feet tall with abnormally long limbs.

Percy didn't know if he was relieved that Lucy was that, or irritated that she was there. He was momentarily a mixture of both, with leaning more towards annoyance as hard as it was for him to admit. Seeing how much one of these cost, Percy attempted to look through the pockets of Audrey's pyjamas. _Yes_ , 'his girlfriend' (was she really?) had given him an allowance. _Yes_ , she even trusted him enough not to buy any sharp objects along with them—well, there was the fact that she'd given him a pitiful amount, but it seemed to probably cover the cost of one of these Pygmy Puffs from what he could deduce.

He'd put the money on the counter after calculating the amount in his head (he was offered a _river_ of Knuts) and turned to ask Lucy which one she'd wanted.

Percy's heart nearly stopped in his chest when he'd seen that Lucy had discarded the large book that she was holding (which spoke about the history of the Calming Draught, which Percy had read at round her age and had to say that he thought that it was an excellent read) and had somehow found a ladder in all the seven minutes that Percy had spent in converting knuts to sickles and making sure that he had the correct amount. She'd also had somehow not only placed the ladder without making a single sound but had reached the top end of it and had gotten to the Pygmy Puff selection, fixing her glasses ever so often. She squinted her eyes anyway and tried to pick.

 _"Lucy, get down from there!"_ Percy exclaimed, his heart racing in his chest. He thought he might die via the aneurysm that child would give him if she didn't, in fact, listen to him.

Percy went to grab a chair and stood on top, realising that he was very much off Lucy and couldn't catch her no matter how much he stretched.

Merlin, how _big_ was this bloody shop? How could a bloody joke shop be _this big?_ A hospital wasn't this large!

Sighing deeply, Percy placed the chair back near the counter and decided to climb up the ladder himself.

 _"THIS ONE!"_ Lucy decided happily, picking up a bright red Pygmy Puff and squeezing it like it had no complaint which to speak of.

It seemed that Lucy hadn't noticed how far away from the floor she until then was because she squeaked, letting out an ear-shattering scream in the process as Percy nearly made his way to the very top of the ladder. Fortunately, Percy had no real fear of heights. His fears were completely condensed to the dark and his mother (and he was not sure which one he was scared of more).

As Percy licked his lip, he'd reached over to grab Lucy by her legs. From great fear, she'd jumped towards him. He lost his balance completely and fell stomach first down to the ground. Lucy was fortunately cushioned by his head, which was, according to the twins, so big that it deserved its own muggle postal code.

"Ow!" Lucy frowned. Percy did _not_ accept headaches of this magnitude unless firewhiskey was involved. "You're not very good at cushioning falls, Mr Percy, are you?"

"No, I am not," Percy said, rubbing his head. His whole life had flashed before his eyes. It was pathetic.

"What the hell is _this_ , Percival?" Audrey exclaimed, standing there in her emerald-coloured nightgown, with eyes that were so furious that they'd somehow turned to the shade of both Percy and Lucy's hair. "I wake up literally thirty minutes after you do and you've already made a scene that might've gotten the Auror department and the St Mungo's involved! What are you doing down here at this time? Oh, if poor little Lucy wasn't here, I sense that _something else_ would've happened that would also actually have required the Auror department and St Mungo's?"

"Audrey, please," Percy rubbed his temple. "I had just come down for a cuppa."

"Percy, the tea is upstairs," Audrey said in a stern voice, making Percy flush. "Dear Merlin, you will be the death of me. If this happens _again_ , I swear that I'm dragging you to St Mungo's myself."

 _"Mum!"_ Lucy had grabbed her book, walking towards Audrey (and accidentally stepping on Percy's hand, which had camouflaged with the white floor apparently) and showed her the Pygmy Puff. "Mr Percy helped me get one of these! Isn't it pretty?"

Audrey grabbed the Pygmy Puff and tossed it back to the top shelf with very little effort. She could easily have been a Chaser or a Beater in Quidditch. Percy nearly wanted to curse her for doing that in such a natural manner. "Yes, love, but if Mr Percy was listening to me when I talked about you all these years back, then he would've remembered that you're allergic to Puffskeins."

PENELOPE Clearwater mind felt muzzy, wobbly and most of all, _heavy_ — a number of ostentatious colours began to form in front of his bright blue eyes. As she came back to reality, a year's worth of bright, poignant memories encumbered in her hazy, throbbing mind. As the memories assaulted her, she curled up into a pathetic ball, hugged her knees to her chest. She buried her golden head into her fleshy thighs and sobbed recklessly. Her chest tightened with every sob that left her frail, abused body. She felt a warm hand pressing against her hair, and soft, long fingers running through those golden locks. Penelope looked up, sniffling, only to recognise a particular gentle face framed by a long wave of platinum blonde hair.

Penelope immediately sat up, wrapping her arms around Holly's frame as tightly as possible.

"Shhh..." Holly seemed surprised for a few minutes because she didn't respond until later. She then wrapped her arms around a vulnerable Penelope's frame. "It's going to be alright, Pen."

"I haven't been able to use my actual body in a _year_ , Hol—a _year_ ," Penelope sounded out, her shoulders trembling and her lips quivering. "And I married that, that— _that troll!_ She made me marry him! And he _touched_ me. Godric, I've seen contaminated wounds that are cleaner than me," she shuddered in disgust.

For a year, Penelope hadn't chosen what clothes to wear, when to shower, what hair products she wanted to use, whether or not she wanted to move her hands, close her eyes, pull away a few golden strands away from her face, take a few deep breaths when the world seemed overwhelming, straighten her robes, see her mum just because she wanted to, tell her father what was _really_ bothering her, stare at stars as she mixed in her night time porridge, eat what she wanted to, sleep when she wanted to, and _most importantly_ , she hadn't even gotten to choose whom to _bloody marry_ —

Her body had been _used_. For a year, _her own body wasn't hers_. The home that she'd carved for herself twenty-one years ago was... gone. She could not weep for it, for those eyes weren't hers; this skin wasn't _hers_.

She couldn't choose whom pressed up against her, whom listened to her, whom spoke to her, whom loved her, whom she loved. She hadn't even been _really_ been there for the birth of her first child. Never in Penelope life would she even consider getting married to that— _that thick-headed Neanderthal!_ Oh Merlin, she had a _baby_ with him. And that little bundle of joy that been in her body for nine torturous months had _his_ blood running through her arteries. Penelope thought that she was going to be bloody sick just at the thought of it!

It was like a nightmare she was watching slowly unravel before her eyes. _All she wanted to do was wake up._

She could recall how nauseated she felt like the minute that Marcus had unbuttoned the first few bits of his shirt and pulled it off. Aphrodite unbuckled in his belt and bits of Penelope's souls chipped away with every piece of fabric he discarded.

Penelope had seen anatomical skeletons with more on them than he did. She wanted to scream when he'd climbed on their bed, tucking her hair into her ear (who gave him the bloody permission to do that? To kiss her? To _touch_ her?). Every molecule of Penelope's being wanted to smack him. Instead, she just pulled down a hesitant Marcus on top of her body and said yes. _She hated him she hated him SHE HATED HIM_ —and she hated it even more that _he_ was just as much of a victim as she was, because _how could he have known?_ He found it challenging to read the back of a box of Ice Mice, much less know that a woman had to have been under a some variant of a Greek Imperius curse to even consider having a romantic relationship with him! Every time he'd asked for consent, Aphrodite said yes. Penelope could not believe she lost her virginity to- _to the same bloke that used to think it was funny to steel her books and hide them in the boys' filthy underpants drawers where she wasn't looking!_ How unpardonable, how nauseating, how absolutely gut wrenching!

A small part of Penelope would rather she had given it to Roger Davies. She'd bet she'd even be more willing. Penelope genuinely was repulsed by every second she spent with that little part-troll with the nearly translucent grey eyes and sardonic smile. _Merlin. **Marcus**? Really?_ No matter how many times he scrubbed himself, he seemed to smell like he'd just taken a dip in the swamp... and from what Penelope could remember, he nearly blew up their flat trying to make her evening porridge. _Four times_ he did that. _Four times!_

Holly seemed surprised by this. "Marcus?" she echoed in a small voice. "Don't talk about him like that."

Penelope felt like she'd been hit with a bucket of ice water. "What?"

Holly's face remained unchanged. She seemed stern and offended. "What did _he_ do to you? Except probably save you from being a Greek Goddess' meat suit for another year—"

"— _by stabbing me with a poisoned arrow_ ," Penelope said, voice rising. "You don't know anything about this—"

 _"—Penelope, I love you but what in Merlin's name is wrong with you?"_ Holly cut her off, her eyes hardening. She was not the sympathetic gentle face that Penelope had seen moments ago. " _I_ know the story. Oliver Wood clued me and I bloody believe him. He told me what Marcus did. He told me _why_ he did it. He even told me why a Greek Goddess was interested in you in the first place! And the Auror department confirmed it. _Your father_ confirmed it. I know everything there is to know about this—"

"—I don't want to see him," Penelope weakly stated. "Just bring me my daughter and get him to go away."

"It took us _thirty-six_ hours to stabilise you, Pen. He was waiting outside this entire time, and hadn't moved a muscle and you want me to go outside and tell him to _go away_?" Holly called out incredulously, eyes wide with confusion. "Pen, you're tired. You're scared. You just went through a traumatising experience. You haven't been yourself for a year. And Avis is growing up so quick. She already is beginning to _understand_ —"

"I'm not tired or scared," Penelope's face was still. "And he isn't touching _my_ daughter ever again."


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter Forty-Seven

* * *

"Fred. George, I love you both to death and back, _but_ ," Molly had that dangerous tone to her voice as she entered the shop, pointing fingers already. The lightning in the shop brought out the deep golden tones in her dishevelled vibrant red locks. "You _better_ have a proper reason for why you've kept me from seeing my own child from me for a whole month _—the longest month in my entire life and that includes that month where Bill was under investigation by the Egyptian Ministry because they thought that my sweet, innocent and FAITHFUL William was sleeping with floozies in tombs! _If I don't see Percy within the next ten minutes, I swear to all the Knights of the Round Table that I will _somehow_ find a way of putting you two back into my womb."

Fred winced, probably at the graphic images that were assaulting his mind with Molly's threat. "Mum, you say this now, but from what Dad told us, you wanted us out the minute that you hit seven months!"

"That's because I was bigger than a Ukrainian Ironbelly!" Molly argued; chocolate eyes fiery with fury.

"But mum, you still looked brilliant for someone bigger than a Quidditch pitch!" George insisted, which made Molly shoot an icy look towards him that could have made Inferi crawl back to their graves.

Molly crossed her arms over her chest. She tapped the floor impatiently with her old orange flats.

"I want to let you know that _I've_ kept up my end of the deal. _I_ haven't told the rest of the family about Percy being out of the ward. _Oliver_ hasn't told anyone about Percy being out of the ward. Now, tell me what is it that you _had_ to do that you insisted would be worth the wait, but refused to give any elaborate details rather than," Molly's voice changed into a irritating, high-pitched whine, " _'Mum, you didn't trust us to make a proper living out of our joke shop and now, look at how successful we are! We're so successful than in a few years we'll buy the Chudley Canons and have them cater to our every whim like house-elves because underneath this innocuous, dashing exterior, we are sardonic, sadistic and really wish to eradicate all the dragons in the world on the basis that they are so attractive that Charlie's seemed to lost interest in all women!_ '"

"Aw, mum!" Fred called out with a grin. "You memorised the letter we owled!"

"That's how we know you love us," George added on.

Molly was not fazed by their good humour. "If Percy doesn't come down right this second..."

"That'll be a little difficult, mum," George's lips were now in a bright beam. "Because he's a little—"

"— _wrapped up_ in the moment!" Fred finished off. Both of them laughed loudly.

Molly was about to ask what these two were up to when she saw Audrey Brown (where did she come from? Molly hadn't seen her in years!) walking downstairs, looking just as red as the twins' hair.

Audrey was pulling what looked to be an extremely cross Percy by his stiff arm. He was covered in gaudy-coloured wrapping paper, and had a very large bright red bow to his dull red hair. His whole body seemed inflated and he was so massive that it was actually comical that his face was still so narrow and sunken. This fluffed up appearance was probably due of the extensive amount of cotton and protective material between the wrapping papers, making it harder for Percy to manoeuvre himself.

"What is _this_?" Audrey hissed towards them, staring at them with a cold expression. "Get him out!"

"Mum, look at what they did to me! It's _criminal!_ I can't seem to unwrap myself out of this mess!" Percy exclaimed, grabbing a piece of white wrapping paper and ripping it off, only for another bit of pink wrapping paper to grow off from out of nowhere. "Oh, mum, hello! It's been... well, it's been roughly a month since I've last seen you. How are—?"

Just before Percy can finish that statement, George seemed to grab a particular silver paper and unravel it.

Percy immediately started to twirl in a haphazard and speedy fashion, circulating around the room and becoming a bright red blur with no speed or direction.

Percy grabbed the stairs to come to a halt and attempted to stand up properly, nearly falling in the process.

She had thought that between the wrapping paper was extra cotton stuffing, but apparently, it was just Percy's _stuffing_! Molly knew that she'd wanted Percy to put on weight, but _this_ was just ridiculous! He looked like a marshmallow with a weight problem! His _fingers_ now were bigger than the spans of his arms before! His thighs looked dougher than the pizza base that she made yesterday!

"Oh, for Merlin's sake... _deflate him!_ " Audrey exclaimed.

"I thought everyone wanted more of him, not less!" Fred argued.

Percy clenched his teeth tightly. "Fred. George," he spat out coldly. "When people say that they want more of me, they do not generally mean that they want to have so much of me that they are afraid that I might spontaneously develop a massive coronary and die before lunch!"

"Oh, Perce," Fred began; his voice ran smoother than honey. "If you die from a massive coronary, everyone knows that it would've been stress induced!"

"So, mum, Audrey," George began, beaming. "You prefer deflated skeleton Percy?"

"Yes!" they both exclaimed, and then flushed simultaneously, _"No!"_

Percy moved closer to his mother, only to have him wrapped into an extremely tight embrace. Molly was surprised at just how puffy Percy was. She wasn't used to this feeling at all!

"Mum, I wouldn't do that if I were you!" Fred stated, and Molly had no idea why until Percy suddenly slid out of her embrace.

A _POP_ sounded like—something like the 'pop' of an apparition and Percy suddenly _exploded_ , like a balloon.

He was whizzing about the joke shop, propelled by some sort of helium-like air as he knocked over multiple displays—including the fireworks display. Fred and George were grinning brightly, watching fireworks erupt into the jokes shop. A blinding amount of colour started to dazzle in front of her eyes, and Fred and George's laughter sounded out. Molly shrieked, because she was sure that it was _not_ safe for Percy to be floating in the air with those Godric-forsaken fireworks!

 _"PERCY!"_ Audrey called out, pulling her hand out so that Percy could hold onto it.

Percy attempted to reach for hand— _unsuccessfully_. "Audrey, I think I might dissolve into a gelatinous—"

Audrey finally managed to grab Percy's legs and push him towards her. He collapsed into her touch and she carried him in a bridal style fashion. They met each other's eyes, with Audrey smirking and Percy looking away, flushing deeply. The blush was probably aimed towards the fact that Audrey could carry him. Though to be perfectly fair, now that Percy was indeed deflated, Molly bet a doxy wouldn't find it hard to carry him.

"I've changed my mind," Audrey said, setting Percy on the ground like he was an infant that was going to crawl away. "I prefer him properly inflated. I forgot that he looked like an Inferius when he's not."

Percy rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Audrey," he mumbled.

He placed his head in his hands. "I feel ill thanks to you lot—and it's not even ten in the morning yet!"

"But Perce, _your head_ cushioned that fall," George supplied as Fred pulled Percy to his feet. Percy unsteadily fell on Fred a few times, before using the twin's shoulder to balance himself.

"George," Molly gave a warning look towards him.

"I'm Fred," George insisted, only for Molly to shake her head in disbelief. "Come on! We've both have hats over our heads! How could you possibly know?"

"I suppose the tea that you've accidentally spilled all over your clothing has nothing to do with it. Fred prefers his coffee in the morning," Percy mumbled, running his hand through his hair, "neither did the fact that George has always had a problem with spots—probably due to the amount of sugar he eats in a day—and currently, he has a _very_ visibly one on his neck that he's been trying to hide but it's completely futile given the fact that it's the size of a Galleon. That, and Fred has a tendency to actually comb his hair in the morning. The difference between comb versus uncombed is very minimal, but I _do_ notice such things."

"My spot is _not_ visible," George mumbled, rubbing his neck.

"None of these things," Molly insisted, and Percy seemed to look at her like he just noticed that she was there. "His hat just doesn't cover his ears properly."

Percy flushed deeply, and then bit down his lower lip. The next thing he did surprised Molly: he limped towards her and wrapped his arms around her, continuing their interrupted hug.

Molly had never had Percy come to her and hug her like this—at least not since he'd started to use words that even she didn't understand. It was an odd experience to say the least. She placed her hand around his frame. She, too, preferred marshmallow Percy. This Percy was so sickeningly thin that she couldn't hug him without being able to identify which vertebrae she was pressing her hands against. _And his ribs!_

Speaking of sickeningly thin...

Before she left the morning, she'd popped into previously-Percy's-but-now-Oliver's room, which had gotten almost as bad as Ron's room (Ron's room was so orange now that she needed sunglasses just to be able to walk in without risking the bleed vessels in her eyes from rupturing at the traumatising bright lights!), she saw Marcus lying on the bed clad in only his Falmouth Falcons sweatpants and bright pink socks, clutching a wooden picture frame for his dear life and turning around in a fitful, agitated state of sleep. Molly ran her hand through his hair and masses just fell out into her hands. She accidentally woke him up with her yelp of surprise and according to Oliver; he'd only fallen asleep an hour ago. She watched as Marcus stared up with blood-shot eyes and a watery, weak smile. She returned back five minutes later, only to see that he'd already gotten up and was playing Exploding Snap with Oliver, whom was complaining about the fact that the Slytherin was definitely cheating. In response, Marcus only gave a snort.

She leaned back and placed her hand on Percy's chin, staring back at him with despondent eyes.

"You're looking pale. Go wash up your face, love, and get me a cuppa too whilst you're at it!" Molly said, as she watched Percy walk back upstairs. When Percy was gone, she went on to rant. " _Fred. George_. You two have yet to have told me why precisely did I have to wait a _full month_ to see my own son? You know, I was there when I gave birth to him. I thought that _I_ was the one that made the demands on—"

George cut her off. "Mum, there's something that we have to tell you about Percy."

Fred nodded his head, his face stern. "He's a loony."

Molly glared over at them icily. _"What?"_ her voice was high.

"You know," George began. "Bonkers—"

"—off his rocker—" Fred supplemented.

"— _barking mad_ ," George added on.

"Stop it!" Molly exclaimed. She was _not_ listening to this. She should've done dragged Percy back to the Burrow a month ago. She should've apparated to the shop and dragged him home by his ears. "You two take that back right this instant! Don't you dare talk about him like that. After all he's been through; the last thing he needed was you two ruining his morning like that! That's enough to drive anyone _'barking mad'_! Do you know what they did to him in there—?"

"No, mum," Fred's face was completely serious. " _You_ don't know what they did to him in there."

George nodded his head. "Just... let him stay here, mum," he insisted. " _We'll_ take care of him."

Molly's heart fluttered. Percy might need this. He might need the twins. He might need Audrey. He might need this environment. He might _not_ need his mum—especially if she was just going to keep on nagging and prodding at him—and the thought made her feel nauseous. No mother wanted to realise that her child needed to be _away_ from her to thrive, especially when said child had been living in six-year-long solitude.

"Alright," she said in a sad whisper, realising right then that this probably meant that she couldn't let the rest of the family know that Percy was out of the ward. It might overwhelm him after all! Molly was sure that having Charlie, Bill, Ginny or Ron (or Arthur— _especially_ Arthur) wouldn't do Percy a world of good if he _really_ was struggling as bad as the others tried to make it out. "Take care of your brother!"

"Don't worry, mum," Fred noticed the ribbon on the shop floor, "We'll make sure he's stuck in the present!"

FRED walked into Percy's bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sat down in front of Percy, whom was fast asleep. George had been up from eleven to one, and now, it was _his_ turn to watch Percy and make sure that he didn't randomly wake up in the middle of the night and harm himself. Fred yawned, eyes set at Percy's arm. Godric. It was a mass of semi-healed slashes, bright angry cuts and pale, fading scars. He hoped to Merlin that his mum never caught sight of these or else she was the one that was having the coronary.

Two weeks ago, Fred and George had left him alone with a _butter knife_ so that he could cut Audrey's apple cinnamon muffin (unfortunately, that had been Percy's first meal of the day and it had been four in the afternoon) with—and they'd been gone ten bloody minutes to talk to a customer and he'd turned the bathroom into an Auror's crime scene!

Fred didn't actually know what the ward folk had done to Percy, but they must've done something abhorrent to muck him up this much. It seemed to him that Percy was trying _not_ to harm himself, but the urge to do so got _so_ bad sometimes that he'd do some inane things. Like jamming butter knives into his arteries.

Bloody hell. Percy was supposed to be involved in this whole Greek God escapade bollocks. How was Percy going to fight _a Greek ruddy God_ when all he seemed to want to do was destroy himself the second that he didn't have someone watching him? If Fred had just left let himself fall asleep right now, Percy could wake up any time and slash himself to the point where potions couldn't restore the blood loss.

Getting a psychiatric healer made things _worse_ , because Percy couldn't see someone that was wearing those sparkling ivory robes without having a mental breakdown. And even if they met off in a coffee shop with them wearing common causal robes, Percy insisted that nothing was wrong with him and _that was the bloody hard part_ —Percy was _sane_ ninety percent of the time. He acted like the actual Percy. He made comments nobody cared about like the actual Percy. He rolled his eyes like the actual Percy, and then ten minutes later, they'd find him throwing away forks because the temptation of shoving it into his eyeballs was too much.

"Percy?" Fred was surprised to see that his brother was awake and staring at him with big, bright blue eyes.

"One of the many muggle procedures that they suggest for severe epilepsy is the induction of ketosis to prevent convulsions. One of the ways that you are able to elicit this very quickly is to starve one's self—along with consuming a subpar carbohydrate intake," Percy didn't seem to break eye contact with Fred. "Thus, I starved, and I starved... and I believe at some point, I started whacking rats with loose bricks and eating them. I was then, _err_ , punished for indecent behaviour. That is to say that they belted me until I learned _not_ to consume rodents in moments of utter desperation. At that point, I was extremely good."

Percy's lips turned up into a weak smile. "I ate spiders instead."

Fred hadn't noticed that he'd been holding in his breath until then.

"I wailed like a child," Percy shook his head, frowning in disapproval. "There were thoughts I was going on about that I didn't even know I had in me. I believe I seemed to have plotted our father's imminent murder—however; I _do_ want to argue that I was dragged daily to rooms that triggered my convulsions and thus, I was not in the best mental state when I was thinking of doing my father in. And convulse I did—every day, for five years, I convulsed, and then they threw me back into my, _err_ , room. Bearing in mind that if I had been sick the previous day, they would throw me _in it_ as an act of dispute."

Fred winced, still staying silent.

"I was not very cooperative. I tended to steal from them, or I _attempted_ to at the very least. I was unsuccessful in all my attempts. Everything I've ever attempted to salvage always ended up being confiscated and they tended to... well, to be blunt and fair, they cracked limbs when I did such things," Percy said, voice completely apathetic. "I believe my rationale towards my consistent attempted thefts is that I realised that I would be treated lesser than a horklump either way, but there was always a chance I might procure something if I tried hard enough. I wanted to write a letter to mum and they refused to allow me the privilege of doing such a thing—not until recent years, where they'd made me write a letter out on a long bit of parchment paper and then they burned it in front of my eyes. Do you know what the ironic thing is?"

Fred only gave a soundless shake of his head.

"Now that mum is around, I've forgotten everything I've wanted to say to her," Percy explained.

A few minutes of still silence followed, with Percy continuing his monologue. "The hardest thing is not the physical pain, or my evident slow trickle to madness—it's the fact that whilst I was locked into a room, a _war_ happened... that I know nothing about in any shape or form... and I—I cannot even begin to explain why I cannot cope with that thought. I would rather..."

Fred slowly nodded his head, because Percy knew what he would rather do.

Percy sighed deeply. "I bet you've envisioned far worse actually going on in the ward itself and my reasons for my own lack of sanity are... unjustifiable and poor at best," he bit down his lower lip. "Believe it or not, I _do_ actually feel guilt when I attempt to harm myself yet I'm pathetic. If there is anyone in the universe that loathes it more than Audrey or you seem to do, then it's me. It's an uncouth habit that I do because I still feel as trapped as I was in that room. As time passed, I felt as if the only way I was able to escape that ward is death, and I would rather it be by my hands than anyone else. Even when I _knew_ that I was going to leave the ward, I was far too unstable to stop myself from harming or attempting to end myself. That, and I seem to have subdued myself into thinking that I don't have a family. Thus, seeing everyone again is particularly difficult because for the past six years, I have taken to telling endangered birds about how _they're_ my family."

Fred stared at Percy as if he was speaking in Elvish.

 _"Worse?"_ Fred echoed, his chest tightening just at the thought that Percy thought that what he went through was not enough to justify the fact that he seemed to lose all his gobstones. "Perce, how could this be worse? And why did you have to ' _subdue_ yourself' into thinking that you don't have a family?"

Percy turned his head aside. "If I don't have a family, I don't have to wonder what they've been doing for six years whilst I've been in this predicament," Fred was starting to feel ill at this point. "At the same time, I cannot help but think that I am the one that should be feeling remorseful because _I_ was the one that had—quite frankly—might as well have slept through the war of the ages. You were _living_ it. You were in isolation yourselves. Thus, I believe I simultaneously feel furious for what has been done to me, and that people have allowed this to happen to me and at the same time, I believe that if it _has_ happened to me and nobody has attempted to do anything to stop it all throughout six years, it _is_ justifiable."

"You should feel angry," Fred honestly said, getting up from his chair and sitting on Percy's bed. "Perce, we let you rot in a cell for six years. _Of course_ , you're supposed to feel angry. You're supposed to hate us! And this is _not_ bloody right! They _tortured_ you because you were sick! It's not bloody ' _justifiable'_! You don't let blokes that had dragon pox starve to death just so you could say that they didn't die of ruddy dragon pox! You don't snap wrists in blokes that are dying of a heart attack just so they could say that their heart doesn't hurt as much now that they can't move their hand!"

Percy sat up from the bed, sitting down beside Fred.

"And what is this bollocks about the war anyway?" Fred echoed. "You weren't sat sipping tea in Cardiff whilst we were off fighting for our lives! You don't go up to lads that are being tortured in Voldemort's dungeon and tell them that they don't deserve to be battier than a vampire because they didn't wave around a few wands in Hogwarts. You don't shake blokes that are in comas and ask them to get up and fight! You can't blame yourself for not being there and you can't bloody tell me that you can't be mucked in the head because instead of duelling with Death Eaters, you were being belted for being desperate enough to eat rats when you were—quite literally—being starved to death!"

Fred offered a watery smile. He hadn't felt like tears were starting to fill his eyes until he started to blink them away, "Perce?"

"Yes?" Percy arched his eyebrows, looking much more content with this than Fred thought he would. Fred had never been good at emotional situations like this. That was George's suit!

"Why did you decide to stay with us?" Fred very quietly asked, "other than our obvious charm and charisma... which you _hate_ more than you hate broken quills."

"I believe it's because you are the most immature people in the universe and if there was anyone I could depend on not to have changed with the years, it'll be you two," Percy offered a genuine smile—a very rare one. "That being said, if George was sitting here, I doubt I would be telling him any of this."

"Because of his ear?" Fred guessed and Percy gave a nod in Fred's direction. "Perce?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Yes, Fred?"

That was when Fred attacked Percy, placing his head into the taller male's shoulder. Fred's grip tightened around Percy's waist, as he sobbed relentlessly. It didn't take long for Percy to follow suit, wrapping his long arms around Fred's short, muscular frame. He buried head into Fred's bright red hair and allowed silent tears to cascade down his cheeks.


	48. Chapter 48

_this was supposed to be a filler chapter. it's sort of developed into something more..._

 ** _inquiry to any comments on last chapter:_**

 _ **FairyRave:** this comment made me smile so, so much. i don't think i got tired of reading it. _

* * *

Chapter Forty-Eight

* * *

Another four months seemed to flitter past mindlessly through Fred's head.

Fred watched Percy start to colour code the stains, grimes and growing fungi on Fred and George's flat.

Fred would lie if he said that he didn't beam up when he randomly stepped on a small piece of parchment that was spello-taped to a brown stain on their green (who bloody knew it was green? Godric, Percy cleaned up well!) carpet reading ' _I surely hope that this is chocolate'_.

( _"What are you smiling about?"_ Percy would say when he caught Fred looking down at the crumbled note that resided on their carpet. _"This is not a joke!"_ )

Throughout the whole of August, this practice began to escalate. Percy was taping notes everywhere, detailing a clear list of demands so that they could ' _enrich'_ the living experience in Fred and George's flat. Percy insisted that he only used these notes as a cautionary measure 'just in case he forgot about his comments regarding subpar qualities about the flat'—like Percy would ever forget! He had the memory of a manticore! In fact, Fred was convinced that nine-year-old Percy hadn't forgiven the twins for putting doxy eggs in his piping hot honey porridge and telling him that they were just dried blueberries.)

There was a dozen notes in the bathroom: ' _the smells coming out of this toilet could knock out a Common Welsh Green', 'Audrey's bras are **not** hung round the bathroom for you to stuff itching powder into'_ (Fred and George wondered how Percy knew about Audrey's itchy bra) and the most recent one: ' _when I take a shower in this depressing bathroom, I somehow become filthier. Fix this before I somehow morph into one of your portable swamps!_'

Not to mention that there were more of those little buggers in the kitchen than there was food.

George's favourite was ' _I suppose mum should knit a sweater for this giant ball of fuzz living in the cupboard'_. Fred's favourite was a note stapled on to a bag of premium doxy eggs with _DRIED BLUEBERRIES_ written on top.

The funniest thing happened on the eleventh of August when poor little Lucy accidentally took a handful of them and crunched them. She actually _liked_ them! Audrey was in ruins when she found out ( _"Percy, I will marry you just to divorce you! I will take half of everything you ever owned!" _was her threat), whilst Lucy continued to attempt to sneak some into her morning porridge. Audrey attempted to investigate if there was any percentage of Lucy that was even _slightly_ Bowtruckle-like but came up short. Meanwhile, Percy pretended not to note Lucy hiding underneath the table whilst they were having breakfast, insisting that she just had liquorice in her porridge and there were no doxy eggs to be found there!

(Audrey's argument to why Lucy shouldn't have doxy eggs went something like, _"This is not good for your stomach! If you eat too much of this, you'll get a stomach ache!"_ whereas Percy's comment went something like, _"Do you know how much doxy eggs cost?"_ Fred and George thought it was _very_ Arthur-like. Of course, they did not say this comment in fear that Percy would have a mental breakdown. _Literally_.)

There were a few notes in Fred and George's bedroom, mostly with statements like: _'I know you both stay up late. George, there is no reason for why a grown man such as yourself should to decide to fall asleep at two in the morning'_ and _'how could you wear these underpants? I'm having them sterilised next week!'_

On the fifteenth of August, Percy pinned a note on top of his bed. Fred caught a sight of on it and had nearly laughed himself to death: _'clean this mess! There are so many parchment paper notes in this flat that an owl cried when he walked into this room! Fix it fix it FIX IT!'_

Percy had been talking for days on how if he found asbestos in the flat, then he was going to burn it all down and he didn't care at all about the fact that sending that many fireworks into the sky couldn't be all that safe (Fred and George were sure that this was the Slytherin in Percy talking.)

After this, Fred and George created a new line of products called Prefectly Parchment Paper— _"Parchment Paper to Nag You About The Rubbish That You Don't Want to Do!"_ (Now with 372 clever phrases from a stuck-up arse!). Percy did not appreciate that he had his own product and insisted that he did not sound like a smug, perfection-driven bastard. Audrey thought that they were accurate and especially liked it that they'd separated them into neat piles with specific colour-coded headlines. They also had one section entirely for Percy-like motivational speech (i.e. _'you loathe yourself for things that you **should** be doing and yet refuse to do them! How am I supposed to sympathise with you exactly?'_ )

ON the twenty-first of August, Percy insisted that whatever they do, they do not celebrate his birthday.

On the twenty-second of August, Fred and George woke a sleeping Percy exactly at midnight by throwing a banoffee cheesecake on his face. Percy complained about this action, but that didn't stop him from licking toffee off his horn-rimmed glasses. A Percy that wasn't used to stomaching more than a few pasties (washed down with pumpkin juice, tea and coffee of course) a day had decided that consuming a whole cheesecake was a very smart thing to do. He then spent most of the day gripping onto his stomach and stating that he felt like he might pass a kidney stone. Audrey reminded him that nobody told him to consume a whole cake _and_ three pasties _and_ two doughnuts _and_ five Honeydukes' chocolate bars...

By the fourth of September, Percy had cleaned out everything in their flat—including the pantry. By this point, Percy had regained his normal appetite and was consuming three meals a day.

By the fifth of September, Percy announced that he'd put on a stone since his birthday. Audrey wondered how someone could put on a stone and look virtually the same. Fred had gently (and kindly) reminded Audrey that the Percy's newly found weight gain was all in his big, thick head.

By the twenty-eighth of September, Percy could be found teaching Lucy chess. The best part was Percy's irritation afterwards as he stormed into Fred and George's room, huffing: "This _is just like what happened with Ron!_ I taught him how to play chess and he got better than me in the span of five minutes!"

Only an hour later did his irritation wear off because Fred and George found him sat by the kitchen counter, writing out details on how he was going to go back to Hogwarts to finish off his education but not before she got her Hogwarts' letter because he was going to make sure that she didn't snog any boys before the age of seventeen. This was followed by a three-hour-lecture relating to how Lucy should prepare for Hogwarts, despite the fact that she wouldn't be in Hogwarts for another three years.

Fred and George were interested in Audrey's reply to Percy-being-more-fatherly-towards-Lucy situation. She insisted that _"they just might've properly decided to go out recently"_ and that _"I think Percy and I have come to the conclusion that we seem to harbour feelings for each other that are strong enough that we can't seem to think of being with anyone else and that us properly getting back together was going to happen eventually—so why not now?"_

Fred and George were more interested in what Audrey really meant when she said _'properly go out.'_

BY the seventh of October, Fred and George had found Audrey sat on the couch whilst Percy had taken Lucy out for a bit of a walk.

The brown-haired girl was sobbing mindlessly and kept on mumbling about how Molly was going to bloody kill her when she found out. The whole thing was wetter than a jar of Weasley's Wet Weather. Fred and George were going to go call someone that knew how to deal with female emotions _(not Percy)_ but Audrey's sobs had gotten louder and they couldn't move without feeling a heaviness starting to form in their chests.

"It isn't as bad as you think it is!" Fred had insisted, wrapping his arms around Audrey but trying not to be very close to her because she _was_ Percy's lass after all. "It never is!"

"I'm—I'm—"Audrey tried to choke out.

"Come on!" George tried to encourage her, unsuccessfully. "Kneazle got your tongue?"

"I'm pregnant! I have been for a month now!" Audrey said, sniffling away. Fred and George took a look over at each other and Fred didn't have to hear George speak to know that he was thinking the same exact thing: was it alright to break down in tears in front of a crying pregnant woman _instead_ of consoling her?

"Well, I-I-" George's voice was shaky. "Wait, _Percy's_?"

"Who else do you think it is?" Audrey replied back acerbically, trying to wipe away tears from her warm brown eyes. She continued sniffling, her eyes puffy and red. "I've not been out of this flat for months because Percy hadn't!"

"Well, you had no problem keeping yourselves _entertained_... blimey! In _our_ flat?" George mumbled.

"Wait a minute...three months ago, you didn't want to be in a proper relationship with him because you were afraid of how mucked up in the head he is—and he still is. Just last night, he'd been throwing away cutlery again because he's been dreaming of stabbing himself with it!—and now, you're telling me not only have you shagged our brother, but you two shagged _and_ didn't use protection potions? _Our_ Percy didn't remind you?" Fred called out incredulously. "Did you forget that our father had _seven_ of us?"

"It was a spur of a moment decision!" Audrey exclaimed. "Well, _decisions_ , but given the fact that when I had Lucy, I had to use _fertility potions_ and I had to shag my ex boyfriend around the clock to even—"

"Our father had _seven_ of us!" Fred and George repeated.

Audrey rolled her eyes. "I thought you were supposed to tell me that it's not my fault!" she exclaimed. "How in Merlin's name am I going to tell Percy? What about the rest of your family? Oh, and _Percy_. He can't take care of himself; much less take care of another human being! And what about Ares? I don't fancy having another baby, only to have Percy send us into the third wizarding war! He's supposed to focus on getting sane enough to fight a Greek God, not perfecting his nappy changing techniques!"

"Like I said, our father had seven of us—" Fred reminded her for the third time round.

George cut him off, "—so Percy has already perfected his nappy changing technique."

This did not console her.

When Percy came back home later on that night to console Audrey, she threw pillows at him and called him a bastard. When he asked why, she didn't reply and instead, kept on insisting that he was a bastard. Whenever he attempted to approach her again, she nearly made his glasses a permanent part of his anatomy.

Fred and George thought this behaviour would subside but it had only gotten worse in the past few weeks.

Percy had come to wonder what in Merlin's name he'd done wrong.

Fred and George only replied by, _"Percy, Percy, Percy, you're a prefect, remember? You don't do anything wrong!"_ Percy seriously nodded his head in agreement. It somehow went past his head that the twins had been only joking. He had decided to investigate possible reasons for Audrey's terrifying mood by reading a book about female behaviourisms and psychology because it wasn't anything _he'd_ done wrong.

Needless to say, when Audrey found out, she nearly skinned him alive.

BY the thirteenth of October, Audrey had yet to tell Percy about her pregnancy.

Meanwhile, Percy had set up a Gringott's account for Lucy and insisted that they invest into her future now. Audrey rolled her eyes and then reminded him that instead of trying to think of what to do for Lucy's future, he should be devising and reviewing his plans for preventing a Greek God from destroying the universe. Percy insisted that it was more important to start a savings' account now because if the end of the world did happen, Lucy would _surely_ need money. Lucy agreed that she did need money— _a lot of money_.

She also insisted that she _needed_ a broomstick before she turned nine.

ON Halloween, Fred dressed up like George and George dressed up like Fred.

ON the twelfth of November, Fred and George had planned on meeting up with Lee, Alicia, Katie Bell and Angelina for lunch. They'd taken Lucy along with them, and they played Exploding Snap until they were nearly kicked out of the restaurant for 'disrupting the premises' by being... happy.

Fred kept on noticing the way that George and Angelina were making goggly eyes over at each other when they thought nobody was looking and it left him feeling... empty. George hadn't even told him that he'd liked Angelina yet but those two had made it quite blatantly obvious that there were seconds away from tying the knot right then and there!

Months ago, when George lost his ear, they'd had a talk about it, and then another one—and then there were _so many talks_ that Fred had decided to leave them alone because those two could go on for hours, talking about things that Fred had as much interest in as he did in their Charms homework!

It was funny that George even _had_ topics that Fred wasn't interested in.

Apparently, George liked Astronomy. Fred _knew_ that he did, but he didn't know that he liked it enough to hide under the sheets at three in the morning to read magazines dedicated to just a bunch of white dots in the sky. Fred knew that George used to do all their Astronomy homework and didn't seem to have a problem with it, but to like it enough to map out star sheets _for fun_. Merlin, his own twin wasn't any better than _Percy_. Fred was about to disown George until he used his power for good use and decided to make accurate lunar prediction charts for Bill, whom had turned into a rabid bastard when the full moon was in wake. He once apparated into the flat randomly and _smashed a whole wall in with his bare hands_.

(Godric, if Percy still found it difficult to talk to George because of his missing ear— _and George wore a hat most times_ , then Fred didn't even want to figure out what in Merlin's name he'd do if he'd caught sight of Bill's face. And the fact that he had a wife and she was _pregnant?_ Oh well, maybe she could share baby tips with Audrey... whom Percy did not know had one in the sack, even though she'd been rapidly putting it on. Percy might look to Bill for advice, you know, when it wasn't the full moon...)

Enough Bill talk. The bastard hadn't given back the Galleon that he borrowed from Fred two days ago anyway! Back to George and Angelina—it hurt.

 _It really hurt_.

Fred had _always_ liked Angelina... he took her to the Yule Ball for Merlin's sake! Truth be told, Fred and George were so alike that it wasn't even shocking that they've somehow developed feelings for the same lass.

He looked back at George, noticing the light brimming in his eyes and decided to be the better twin (well, he was always the better twin) and just let George have her... _but_ if George started to plan a proposal with _stars_ in mind instead of one big elaborate prank, then Fred was disowning him.

FRED, George and Lucy came back home much earlier than they'd expected.

Whilst Lucy had decided to take a kip on their couch, Fred and George nipped into the kitchen for a cuppa, only to notice that a nude Audrey pressed up against the fridge and Percy using his arms to shield her body away almost immediately afterwards, shooting an irritated glance at them. He _Accio_ -ed a blanket and turned to put on his underpants... the choice of which hadn't changed since he was about ten.

"What are you angry about?" Fred echoed. "That's our fridge you're shagging her up against!"

"Perce, that better be milk on the floor," was George's only reply.

Percy had somehow dressed himself back up in seconds, whilst Audrey clutched tightly round the blanket, hiding back her body _as if_ Fred hadn't had it seared into his cerebral cortex. Fred's eyes were on her belly, which was starting to soften and very slightly protruding. It looked like she'd just had a massive Indian yesterday (and she did. Blimey. He didn't know one woman could eat so much!)

"Well, it's not whatever you think it is! I don't know what kind of diseased knob you have, but _that bodily fluid_ isn't _solid_ at room temperature!" Percy huffed coldly, waving his arms around in discontentment. "And it's only _your_ milk that's this solid and that's only because of the fact that you've bought this carton in 1995. I'm not sure what joke product requires _fossilised milk_ and I'm not sure I want to know!"

"Well, fluff up your hair, 'cause we're taking you out to buy new robes!" Fred exclaimed.

"What?" the colour from Percy's face drained immensely. " _Leave_ this flat? _Are you insane?_ Where everyone else can see me? Where I can run into anyone and they might even _recognise_ me?"

"Percy, you've not been out of this flat since you've been in!" George expressed, shaking his head. "I'm not sure about you, but that doesn't sound very healthy! And you're supposed to be getting better. How can you get any better if you've confined yourself to the flat like they've confined you to that ruddy ward?"

"I _am_ getting better!" Percy argued. "I do not confine myself. I just prefer not to leave this flat."

Audrey glared at him, and grabbed his arm, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to show off the bright red, angry cuts littering underneath. Fred's stomach coiled when he caught sight of them. There weren't that many last night and there certainly weren't that many three days ago! "Then what are _these_ , Percival? Surely not a sign of you recovering from the muck that's in your head now, is it? And it is not a sign of you going bloody insane because of your insistence on secluding yourself from everyone else, is it?"

Percy looked away. "I've had a few bad nights! I've not tried to kill myself for a month! I am _simply_ trying to inflict bodily harm on myself without leaving permanent damage. That is progress."

 _"No, it's not!"_ Fred and George exclaimed.

Percy's eyes darkened. "Well, I suppose I'll just kill myself because there's no difference between harming myself and articulately planning out my death to the letter," he muttered acerbically.

"Don't even bloody joke about that," Audrey hissed at him.

"I wasn't," Percy said, his arms crossed over his chest. "I—"

"Go put on your robes!" Audrey exclaimed. "And go outside. I bet that you're extremely Vitamin D deficient and that cannot be helping your bloody depression!"

"I am _not_ depressed!" Percy exclaimed, stomping out of the kitchen.

The minute that Percy was out of the kitchen, Audrey's face softened up dramatically. "Do you think we're being too hard on him?" she asked in a low voice. "Maybe this might be too much for him—"

"If he stays in here, he'll do what he's always done," Fred and George argued.

"He has to leave this ruddy flat," Fred expressed. His tone sounded definite and certain. "We're just going to Diagon Alley. Merlin, we're taking him to _Twilfitt and Tatting's_ to have a look at their dress robes! We're not buying anything since half of one of these robes cost three months' worth of our rent _but_ we won't accidentally bump into anyone we know there. Especially not anyone from our family."

"You should tell him," George suddenly said. "You shouldn't be worrying about this outing as much as—"

"I can't!" Audrey exclaimed. "I'm not sure if you've noticed that he's absolutely bonkers—"

"— _you're_ the one that shagged him without protection," Fred reminded her, before he then added on, "And you're the one that's decided to be in a relationship with him when he's bonkers. This was always a possibility and you don't know what could happen. This could—"

"—make him want to get better," George cut Fred off. "If my girlfriend was having a baby and I was off me bloody rocker, then that would surely make _me_ want to get better!"

Fred felt something slam in his heart as thoughts of Angelina and George came to his mind. He pushed them away because he'll talk to George about this later. The whole room went silence as Percy suddenly emerged, wearing old robes that still smelled like his Hogwarts books. He'd taken time to flatten his already magically-flattened hair (George and Fred had flattened it for him on his request as Audrey refused to give Percy his wand.) He looked so tidied and pressed up, Fred wondered if Percy thought he was taking him to a highly elite shop where nobody but stuck up blokes like him shopped— _oh wait._

"Percy," Audrey walked over to him and straightened up his robes. Fred didn't even know that that was possible. "When you come back, we'll have a little talk."

"Now, _that_ doesn't make me anxious at all," Percy commented.

"I'm not breaking up with you, you dolt," Audrey snapped at him, only for Percy to smile back at her and then gave her a nod of his head. He still looked very apprehensive. "Enjoy your time out now."

"I won't," Percy mumbled, turning to look at the twins.

FRED apparated them to the shop and Percy spent a good hour just looking through the shop. He attempted not to look at the price tag, but he failed in doing so. It was the first thing he looked at. Fred didn't know that Percy's _freckles_ could pale until then. It took him a good seven minutes before he started ranting on about the high cost. That was a good ten minute lecture and was followed by fifteen minutes of Percy appreciating the good-quality fabric. He insisted that it was so soft that he bet that he would feel like he wasn't wearing anything if he slipped it on. Fred told Percy that it wouldn't bode well with the ex-prefect... if Percy felt like he was nude; he'd probably have a breakdown and then cover himself with blankets.

Percy rolled his eyes and mentioned that he'd been in the nude many times if he'd drunken enough firewhiskey. Fred and George laughed, and Percy realised what he'd just said and blushed so deeply that he matched the _good quality_ beetroot-coloured fabric behind him.

Percy couldn't take it anymore and decided to try on one of the robes even if he wasn't buying them.

As he was in the dressing room, Fred had been chuckling to himself about how Percy was easily swooned by anything that cost more than their father could afford in a lifetime. That was when Fred's heart stopped because in a little corner, he saw Molly standing beside Viola Flint, whom was flipping avidly through the clothes. Fred's heart was absolutely pounding when he also caught sight of Bill standing beside a heavily pregnant Fleur and a Charlie that had mirroring scars to Bill's.

Percy had walked out of the dressing room.

"What do you think?" he twirled round, oblivious to the redheads standing by the corner. He pulled up a section of the black fabric, mesmerised. "Godric, these are fit. If I ever get married, that is if I manage to save the universe from a Greek God, I'm wearing these dress robes! What are you two...?"

Percy caught sight of his redheads in the corner and his eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

"Perce, don't faint. It'll cause a scene and they _will_ come over here," Fred warned, because Percy could definitely stop himself from falling unconscious at the sight of his family. "Percy? Percy?"

All the colour had disappeared from his face. "Is that _Bill?_ " his voice was croaky. "And-and _Charlie_..."

"Percy," George placed a hand on his arm. "Percy, are you breathing, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm perspiring in a pair of dress robes that cost more than anything I'll ever own."

He turned back to the dressing rooms and quickly changed back into his old robes. Fred was sure that if Percy had been in them any longer, he'd have to pay for them. He stuck them back in their place, and then turned to leave. He tried to place his head on his hands to hide his red hair, but Fred and George thought that not only did it make him look stupid, but he also somehow made his hair colour more prominent.

"Fred! George!" Bill's voice rang out. "What are you two doing here? I've not seen you for weeks!"

Fred's heart jolted and he turned to see that Percy had suddenly disappeared. Fred let out a sigh of relief as he was being squished into a great big hug by Bill, whom looked to be in good spirits—maybe Fleur gave him a little treat after dinner last night.

(Yes, that was a mutt joke and hey, it wasn't like Fred _actually_ said it to Bill.)

Fred wrapped his arms around Bill's body, stiffening as he looked around for where Percy might've hidden. He found no sign of the bloke and being six foot tall, it wasn't exactly that easy for him to hide anyway. Fred turned around to look at George, whom had been squished by Charlie's embrace. George only gave a shrug.

"We came here to buy dress robes for George," Fred grinned wildly. "He's proposing to Angelina."

George's face turned white then. "What? How did you know?"

Fred's heart sank so hard into his chest that he actually felt like being sick. He knew that George and Angelina were doing something behind his back, but he didn't think that this something was so serious that they actually thought of tying the knot. "I was only _joking_."

"O-oh," George looked away from Fred.

Fred grabbed George by his shoulder and looked at him with a furious look. "You haven't even asked me if it's alright to date her, much less ask me for my permission to propose to her!"

 _"Your permission?"_ George looked like he was ready to claw Fred. "I need permission from you? Angelina doesn't belong to you! You asked her out to the Yule Ball ages ago and haven't mentioned her since! It's not my fault that you start drowsing off when she and I talk or you would've noticed ages ago that we'd been going out! What did you think I needed all that extra time off for?"

"Honestly?" Fred mumbled. "I thought you were wanking."

George's ears turned red. "You're a bastard, Fred. And nobody needs six hours off to _wank_."

"You started dating her six months ago and you're proposing to her _now_?" Fred exclaimed.

George's eye twitched. "Do you have some _relationship advice_ for me, Freddy?"

"It's almost as bad as Audrey saying that she wanted to be in a relationship with Percy two months ago," Fred replied. "Even though she was busy worrying that he'd snuff it in. She's barely snogged him but decided that she should risk shagging the lunatic without protection and get herself knocked up in the process—"

"Do _not_ talk about her like that," Percy's voice sounded out from behind him.

Fred turned around and saw that Percy was behind the counter, somehow decked in a Twilfitt and Tatting's uniform. Fred knew two things right then: a) Percy was very good at hiding and b) Percy and George were probably never talking to Fred ever again.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter Forty-Nine

* * *

Twenty-two-year-old Percy Weasley's head was filled with white noise.

The world turned into an amorphous blur, fading out—only to come back with a sharpness that made the pounding in his head excruciating. He was panting like he'd been playing Quidditch for hours—that was, if Quidditch players typically felt like they were about to have a _heart attack_.

Percy swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat because if he didn't, he might stop breathing all together... which didn't particularly seem like a bad outcome given his situation.

"Perce," Fred's voice was quivering as he spoke. "I didn't mean to say any of that."

Percy's palms were sweating. He felt like he had no oxygen in his lungs and he wanted to hurt Fred like he hurt him. "Why bother explaining to the _lunatic_?"

"Come on, Perce!" Fred exclaimed, looking over at his family for support, most of whom were shell-shocked... except for Molly, whom was busy looking concerned about the fact that Percy was going to cause a proper scene in the middle of Twilfitt and Tatting's. Percy would not lie that he was _this_ close to destroying fabric that would take away his father's miniscule retirement fund. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he still wanted to preserve the small amount of dignity left in his body.

"Come on _what_?" Percy answered through clenched teeth.

Fred swallowed the lump in his throat. "Let's just go back to the flat and—"

 _"The flat?"_ Percy echoed, his heart beating so loudly he could barely hear himself talk. "Oh no, Fredrick! I thought you wanted me to _leave the flat_ , didn't you? You and George and... _Audrey_... Well, I am leaving! I'd say that I'll be packing my things but I do not have things to pack! I refuse to return to the flat and mark my words... if Merlin himself apparated before me and told me otherwise, I'd still fucking leave."

Fred flinched. "Perce—"

Percy stormed off. He turned round momentarily to catch a look of Bill, whom was gesturing towards a blonde pregnant woman (that better not be his _wife_ , because if it was, Percy didn't know what to do with himself). Charlie gave an affirmative nod and Molly's look of apprehension didn't fade.

Percy accidentally got smacked by the door because he wasn't looking where he was going. He was _fuming_.

His dodgy leg ached with every step he took. He was in absolute physical agony.

Percy shoved his hands into his pockets and walked outside, feeling the breezy September air tingle down his spine. He stuck his hands down the robes that he was wearing and let himself sigh in defeat.

Lunatic. That was what he was. To Fred, to George, to Audrey, to his mum... why bother trying to hide it? Everyone knew, and soon, the rest of his family would come to see him as that unstable maniac that lost himself in the midst of yellow wallpaper.

Percy stared up into the sky, lips pursed into a tight line. He pushed back the tears brimming in his eyes.

"Percy?"

Percy turned to look over at whatever member of his family had chosen to chase him down. Of course. _Bill_. It had to be the bloke that Percy couldn't look at without nearly falling unconscious! Just catching sight of Bill's face made Percy's heart do a set of swirls and loops he'd only see professional Quidditch players do when attempting to catch hold of that Merlin-forsaken Quaffle.

"Bill, I would prefer it if we do not have our first conversation in six years when I'm in midst of a mental breakdown," Percy stated in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, hands still in his robes as he looked away.

"Yet here we are," Bill moved closer to Percy, making goose bumps rise on Percy's skin. A shudder followed afterwards. "You really are a Weasley."

 _"Pardon?"_ Percy replied sharply, as if Bill had said an insult.

Bill chuckled, a small smile finding his way to his lips. "First thing you do after leaving death ward was getting a girl older than me knocked up. Don't you think that's _very_ Weasley-like?"

"She didn't tell me that she was 'knocked up'," Percy's shoulders slumped. "And If I were to guess why she didn't tell me, I'd assume it's because she thinks that if she told me, I'd end up in ruins."

The smile disappeared off Bill's face as he reached over to hold Percy's shoulder. "Look at me."

"Absolutely not," Percy stiffened at the touch. He genuinely didn't think he'd be able to hold on a conversation if he was busy staring at Bill's face. His stomach was flipping just thinking about it.

"It's my face," Bill concluded. Percy didn't know if he sounded offended or not.

Percy nodded his head, not turning to look back. "You look like you've been mauled by a werewolf," he decided to mention—as if Bill didn't know how he looked like. "If I were to look at you, I bet you that I wouldn't be able to maintain a conversation with you... at least not one without pity."

"Perce, you don't exactly look like you've just come out of a health and wellness resort," Bill sounded hurt, and then there was a chuckle, "And I _was_ mauled by a werewolf."

Percy cocked his head to one side. He _owned_ a mirror. He knew perfectly well how he looked like, and he ignored it all the same. He didn't need everyone else's constant reminders.

"How long have you been out of the ward?" Bill asked, and it was the question that Percy was dreading.

If Percy had been looking at Bill, now would be the time he'd look away. "Round about four months."

 _"Four months?"_ Bill reiterated incredulously. "You've been out of the ward for four bloody months and you've not thought of contacting any of us? Do you have any idea how worried we were about you? I had this thought that maybe you would've died and those bastards didn't even bother telling us—"

Percy couldn't take it anymore. He went off like one of Fred and George's Wildfire Whizz-Bangs. "Four months? _Four months?_ I waited _six years_ to hear from someone! _Anyone!_ I was secluded from the universe entirely for that time! You seem to have forgotten that I existed—"

"There was a _war_ going on!" Bill exclaimed hotly.

Percy was seething. "Well, that makes it perfectly fine. I suppose that it's alright if you all had died and I'd have left the ward with my last memories of you all being rows I've had with you when I was fifteen!"

Bill grabbed Percy by his shoulders and spun him around, pushing his chin up so that he was staring at him.

 _"Look at me,"_ Bill demanded firmly.

Percy's heart was beating in his chest. He attempted to look away again, only for Bill to grab his face and fix it back at that position.

"Percy," Bill called out his name roughly this time. "Talk to me—"

Percy grabbed Bill's hand and bit him so hard that he tasted Bill's blood.

Bill jolted and then something indescribable flashed through his eyes that made Percy's spine stiffen.

Just before Percy could run, Bill attacked Percy. His head hit the ground and before he could process what to do next, his face had been pounded in by Bill's fists. Percy attempted to get a word out of his mouth, but he couldn't what with tasting blood that was seeping from _somewhere_...

"I cannot-I cannot _look at you_... if all I see is _blood_ ," Percy managed to choke out weakly.

His pathetic whimpers unfortunately did not come to a halt when Charlie seemed to join in, pushing Bill off of Percy. Charlie pinned Bill down to the ground.

"What the bloody hell are you doing? Trying to kill him?" Charlie spat out.

 _"Let go!"_ Bill attempted to break free of Charlie's grip but was avidly struggling. Charlie, whilst much shorter, was muscular whilst Bill had the same slender body he'd had since he'd started his job.

Charlie shook his head. "You're glad that his face is still in one place, or else yours wouldn't be!"

"It already isn't, Charles, but the mucker won't take a bloody look!" Bill exclaimed, his hands shaking from rage. From Percy's point of view, it looked like Bill was the one with the convulsion issues... or he was very, very cold. "Bastard!"

 _"DO NOT TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE THAT!"_ Molly's voice pulled Percy out of his reverie. Everything was happening so quickly he had no idea what in Merlin's name was going on anymore. _"Percy!_ Hold still!"

Percy had left reality by then. He could vaguely hear his mum call out a few healing spells but he was far too busy feeling sorry for himself to pay attention.

In the same day that Fred had practically unveiled his true feelings about Percy (i.e. _"the lunatic that couldn't stop attempting to snuff himself in"_ ); he'd also discovered that his girlfriend was pregnant (but did not tell him) and that Bill apparently got agitated when people did not take a gander over at his wonderful face.

He was pulled up by Charlie, whose face was soft. His features looked horrible. He looked just as bad as Bill but instead of looking clawed by a werewolf, he looked like he'd been pressed up against a frying pan. Half his face was burned. Percy swore he could vaguely smell smoke, even though that was impossible.

"You alright?" Charlie asked. "Come on. Let's take you home. Bill, do you want to say something?"

Bill's angry had dissolved and he stared at Percy with an empathetic look. "You don't have to look at me. I'm sorry for nearly tearing off your face, lad. I'm—"

"We'll talk about this then, alright?" Charlie looked sufficed with this apology. To be honest, Percy didn't feel angry towards Bill. He just felt guilt for pitying Bill for what had happened to him. "Dad's probably got us takeaways for dinner, so I hope you don't mind curries—"

Somehow, losing a good amount of his blood didn't seem to make shock him as much as that.

"No," Percy suddenly said, barely able to breathe. "I am not going back to that house if _he's_ there."

"Percy, he's your father," Molly tried to reason with him; as if _that_ was a good enough reason for Percy's shoulders to stop shaking. Merlin, he was _patheticpatheticpathetic_ _uselessworthlessnothingnothingNOTHING_. Fred was _right_. He might as well have been stuck in the loony bin because he couldn't even- _couldn't even_ —

"No!" Percy exclaimed. "I am not going back if he's in there. I am not. I refuse to. _I can't. I just_ —"

Viola, Fred and George seemed to somehow join their way into this conversation; along with the blonde that Percy was nearly sure was half-veela because even in the midst of his own panic, he was able to somehow appreciate how beautiful she was ( _Audrey would not appreciate this_ , he thought to himself momentarily with a sad smile). It seemed, by the carrier bag in Viola's hands, she had dragged Fred, George and Bill's wife for a bit of a shop just before she got involved in the never-ending Weasley family fiasco.

"Percy, I'm sorry," Fred's voice suddenly found its way through. "I'm so—"

"It doesn't make a difference, Fred! Nothing you will say will bloody make a difference!" George loudly exclaimed, and dear Merlin, all Percy could stare at was his ear and where it _should've_ been and—

"Percy, _breathe_ ," Molly cut him off. "Percy, love, it's fine. It's fine. You won't see him. Is that alright? You won't see him. I'll make sure of it. You don't have to see him at all, alright? Not ever. It's like you don't have a father! Does that make anything better, love? Percy...? Percy? _PERCY?"_

Percy was being shaken by Molly, and he was... not there. He could feel himself struggling to regain his breath and that his lungs felt like they were on fire.

As he came back to reality, the first thing that he felt was immediate shame because he actually was acting absolutely harebrained. No wonder Fred saw him the way he did. Nobody could even mention Art— _him_ without Percy having flashbacks of in-ward seizure episodes. He could smell vomit and feel a furry something flittering above his skin. This wasn't exactly the hallmark of mental stability.

Molly reached over to hold Percy's shoulder and squeeze it tightly. "Come on, love. Let's take you home."

MOLLY was smiling to herself when she caught sight of Marcus Flint standing by the counter, eating a thick, large slice of a coffee and walnut coffee cake.

Her kitchen was absolutely spotless and there was fresh tea brewing in the pot.

She thought that Arthur had ordered everyone a curry, but apparently, he hadn't needed to because there were pots shimmering away at the stove.

Marcus had been doing this since he'd been here. He spent most of the day with her. He let her sleep in the mornings by turning off her muggle alarm clock. Marcus insisted on holding pins in his mouth whilst she sewed, sometimes knitting with her. He made her sit down whilst she was attempting to dust. Marcus even ran her errands before she compiled a proper list of what she had to do for the week! It was ridiculous having him around. It was like having her personal house-elf, but he _wasn't_ a house-elf. He was human being and she felt guilty for letting him do this. He probably used to own dozens of house-elves before Viola's post-divorce financial crisis. Now, he had to share robes with his sisters and he was so small compared to all of them. Madeline was the smallest. She was all skin and bones, and she probably had _at least_ two and a half inches on him and three stones on him!

"You've made a cake? Is that coffee and walnuts is it? Anything else?" Molly asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And you've made supper? And cleaned the whole kitchen?"

"The whole house," Marcus corrected. With his accent, it sounded more like: _ve 'ole 'ouse_.

"You really didn't have to," Molly said, watching him offer a fork and pushing the plate towards her.

She felt a pang of pain in her chest for him. What could you tell someone whose marriage had fallen apart within the first year? Who had a child that he might never see? Molly had attempted to put herself in his shoes multiple times, but the thought made her feel too ill. Instead, she took a mouthful of the cake. It was so rich that she felt like the few sickles in her pockets were multiplying.

"This is delightful," she chirped—and _extremely_ overbearing (she didn't tell him this).

"Using my child as a house elf, are you?" Viola Flint's voice chimed through the kitchen. She had a bright smile and Molly didn't think it was very funny. She also didn't think that it was a good thing that Viola still shopped at expensive shops whilst her ten children (if she was correct, Marcus had _nine_ sisters—Margery, Morgan, Marceline, Madeline, Melina, Mallory, Marisol, Michelle and Maya). "Truth be told, I'm not surprised. He does this an awful lot at my house too. I don't know why Penelope ever let you go, love."

Molly's heart skipped a beat when she noticed that Viola had said _my house_ instead of _his home_.

"You look better than you did when I last saw you," Viola decided to say, which made Molly bite her lip in her attempt not to sock Marcus' mother in front of him because that was the equivalent of telling Percy that he didn't look like a complete wreck at the moment. "Why do you always look so glum? Why can't you just smile and be happy?" she wrapped a hand around his arm, squeezing it tightly.

Marcus placed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and let himself smile weakly.

"Stop eating so much garbage," Viola shook her head in disapproval. Molly realised that solved another mystery for why Marcus didn't bother eating more, with or without his aching teeth. "Come upstairs with me. I want you to tell me about how I look like in these new robes! Come on."

Marcus trudged along with her and Molly was left feeling relatively defeated. Should she say something?

The minute that Arthur slipped into the kitchen was the minute that she remembered what she was supposed to be doing! Her cheeks coloured in deeply, and she found herself walking towards her husband and placing a hand on his arm. Molly's stomach was knotting as he turned to smile over at her, big bright blue eyes lit up.

"Sweetheart," Molly's voice was a little low, her heart sinking so far into her stomach that she felt like she was _this_ close to vomiting. "We need to talk."

A hesitant look crossed his face. "Molly?" he said in a low voice.

"It's about Percy," Molly's voice was just as low as his was. "He's—well, he's out of the ward. He has been for a while. He's been living with the twins, but he's just not... himself. I'm not sure I understand it as well as Fred and George do, but they've been trying to take care of him and he's- _he's coming home_. Percy and Fred have a bit of a disagreement and things just spiralled from then on...Bill got involved."

Arthur flinched because Bill getting involved in a row was not a good sign, but then he beamed.

" _But Arthur, you can't be here_ ," Molly _hated_ telling him this. "He only said he'd come by if you're not around. I think you might overwhelm him if you..."

Molly tried to smile. It was a weak, pathetic smile. "I'm sorry."

Arthur looked surprised, as if he'd been smacked in the face but then he'd slowly nodded his head. "Alright," he said in a quiet voice. "I'll be around the Burrow, but I'll be as discreet as possible. I'll take it that Percy's using my, _um_ , shed, so I'll be in our room if you ever... need me." His voice was wavering and unsteady.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry, love," Molly said, and Arthur only replied by offering a smile as weak as hers.

Arthur pulled up her chin and then pressed his lips against hers. "I'll be upstairs. Tell him to come in."

PERCY had his arms folded over his puffed out chest. This pose Bill recognised as Percy's ' _I know that **I'm** right and you're wrong'_ pose.

Bill usually would scoff at this, but in lieu of what happened an hour ago, he knew that he was wrong.

It had been years since he'd last seen Percy and the first thing he'd done was have a row about the fact that Percy hadn't opted to see them despite the fact that he'd been out of the ward for months. Given the fact that he'd nearly torn off Percy's face, Bill couldn't say that he didn't understand why Percy chose not to announce his arrival the minute he'd left the ward. He seemed to have forgotten that they were probably bloody torturing him for years in there. Fred said that Percy was mucked up in the head and that he'd lost his gobstones. It didn't help Bill that Percy's shirt had ridden up slightly, and all that Bill could see were dark collagenous scars and newly formed scabs resting beside his hipbone.

Bill bit down his lower lip as hard as he could. "I'm—"

"Bill, if you apologise one more time and launch into the reasons for why you are not exactly in control of your emotions _again_ , then this time, _I_ will be the one to harm you," Percy warned Bill.

Bill smiled and then placed his hand on Percy's shoulder. "So, you forgive me?"

"I suppose," Percy said, stern expression on his face, and then succumbed to a genuine smile.

"You shouldn't," Bill decided and he meant it. He wouldn't have forgiven Percy if the situations were reversed—at least, he didn't believe so. "Perce, the first time I've seen you in years, and I've nearly torn off your face... after you found out that your girlfriend is knocked up from _Fred_."

Percy nodded his head. "Don't forget that he called me a lunatic."

"That's _not_ funny," Bill flatly stated in a monotonous tone of voice. "I forgot that you run away from conversations when they get too personal."

In the past few years, Bill had found himself missing Percy, but he didn't know exactly what he missed about Percy the most. He was bland, sarcastic and had a self-esteem that was so low that Bill would need a very good shovel in his quest to unearth it. He tended to deflect any conversation about him, and had an insistence on saying that he was fine, even when he was upstairs, breaking down about the fact that little Scabbers was stuck in between his floor again. Bill could remember the many, _many_ times that a teary-eyed fourteen-year-old Percy would run up to him during the holidays. He'd open his mouth to try and say _something_. Bill never had any idea of what Percy was going to say because he never said anything. Percy would just swallow the lump in his throat... and then he'd ask Bill to help him with his Charms homework.

"I do _not_ run away when conversations get too personal," Percy huffed indignantly. "Do you really expect me to bear my soul out to anyone, especially—no offense to you, Bill, but just because I forgive you for giving me a whack does not mean that I am going to be telling you _anything_ about me! If I recall correctly, the last person I bore my soul to—and that was _Fred_ —has to demoted me to that bloke that always attempts to snuff himself! Because that'll _surely_ make me realise how _precious_ my life is."

"Perce—" Bill was cut off by a raging Percy.

 _"STOP!_ Nobody has _any right_ to tell me what to do anymore. Every time I've went along with someone else's ideas of what _I_ should do, _I'm_ the one that ends up getting the short end of the broom!" Percy had his hands clenched tightly into fists. "Why is it that when I harm myself, it's a crime and when someone else does it to me, _I'm_ expected to forgive them? And I'm ruddy stupid as well! I actually _did_ forgive you! What bollocks!"

Bill could say nothing. What was he supposed to feel regarding this? Angry? Unhappiness? Bill just felt ill and heavy, like he was about to hack up whatever he'd had that day.

"I'm—" Percy paused in his speech. He placed a hand on his cheek. "I'm..."

Bill turned around and noticed a brown-haired woman standing there with a redheaded child standing beside her. Bill thought he'd had a stroke because he was sure that that child looked _exactly_ like Percy when he was a child—well, if Percy had been a chubby little nipper instead of a wand thin bairn.

Percy completely seemed to forget that Bill was there and instead, wandered towards the woman. All anger had melted by then. "Audrey," his voice was so soft it was like he was afraid of harming her with words.

"Fred apparated to the flat and told me everything," Audrey said.

Percy let himself smile slightly. Bill felt like he was intruding and yet, he couldn't will himself to leave. He watched Percy tuck a strand of lone hair behind her ear and then pull up her chin.

"You're not angry?" Audrey sounded surprised.

"I'm absolutely fuming," Percy said in an eerily calm voice. "Yet it _is_ uncouth for me to start yelling to the mother of my child to be. I might've gone completely and utterly bonkers, but I still have some of my manners. I might not use kitchen cutlery for what it's supposed to be used for but it does not mean that I am prepared to degrade you for a measly little justifiable lie. With that being said, all of that goes out the window if I find out that you've been keeping this a secret from me for more than a trimester."

"Percy, if I kept it for more than a trimester, you dolt, you'd be able to _see_ it!" Audrey reminded him, and then paused, cheeks brightening into a dark hue. "Oh, sorry. When I prepared this speech, I definitely didn't plan on calling you a dolt and I certainly didn't—"

He captured her lips into a kiss.

"I don't want to have yet another row with you. We have been apart for years, and you insisted on having a platonic relationship for just about eternity—" Percy was cut off by an irritated Audrey.

"Because you were fifteen," Audrey smiled as she reminded him.

"Because I was fifteen... but being so young, I have to say I had impeccable taste in women," Bill tried not to chuckle seeing that Audrey was getting redder than Percy's hair. She looked to be attempting not to smile. It was actually very heart-warming to see this side of Percy. "Go on inside. I bet that mum's put the kettle on. I can smell the tea from here. I'll take Lucy out with Bill."

What? Him? Out with baby Percy's female replica? Bill's heart was hammering in his chest.

Audrey nodded her head. "I'm sorry, you know. I know I probably shouldn't have done what I've done but I had my reasons and proper reason at that. I—"

Percy placed a finger to her lips. "Audrey, stop. If there is anything you should be apologising for, it's confiscating my wand and making me have to heat up eggs the muggle way."

"I am _not_ apologising for that," Audrey insisted. "You know why I don't give you your wand!"

Percy laughed, shaking his head. " _For Salazar's sake... go have some tea!_ "

Audrey gave up and walked into the Burrow. She gave a quick nod in Bill's direction, and hadn't even stopped to greet him properly. It was like she knew who he was.

Bill found Lucy gawking at him. She probably had been for a while now, but he hadn't noticed. He watched the redhead walk towards him, and it was just then that he probably caught sight of the big blue book in her hands; camouflaged by the robes that she was wearing—the same shade of the book in her arms.

"Blimey, Perce," Bill shook his head. "You never told me you've gotten her knocked up before."

"I did not. Lucy is _not_ my daughter..." Percy replied in irritation. A smile found its way to his face. "Luce, how about we all go to Diagon Alley for a bit of ice-cream? How does that sound?"

Lucy stared at Percy, smirking. "Of course... _father_."


	50. Chapter 50

_i know that Marcus and Penelope's relationship was mentioned (to Percy) before, but people do forget. haven't you ever told someone something and then they act like it's the first time they've heard it the second time you mention it? that's what happened here. also, Percy has a lot of stuff happening at once. no wonder he can't keep track of everything that he's learned in such a small amount of time._

 _this fanfic will end at 59 chapters (i have it all done up.)_

 _ **anyway, response to the comments on the last chapter:**_

 _ **FairyRave:** i think i laughed at these sparkles of motivation. a lot. and i'm not sure if you'd be surprised or not that the angst has not ended yet. there is a particular chapter that is my favourite. probably 58. i love it. i love everything about it. i hope you enjoy this one! more Bill and Fred!_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising:** yes, he did let Audrey off too easy. and i loved writing Fred in these chapters, so i'm glad you're not hating him! and when it's my fanfic, i don't think Percy does catch breaks. *lets out little laugh*_

* * *

Chapter Fifty

* * *

Percy was holding his ice-cream cone in one hand and Lucy's in the other as he followed a content Bill to their father's shed. Did Percy know why he was going to the shed? Absolutely not.

She chose butterscotch ice-cream with toffee and caramel bits because Percy did (a _very_ wise move, Percy). However, Lucy took one bite of the butterscotch ice-cream and began to gag as if she'd tried Molly's abhorrent Christmas pudding. She insisted that they go to the nearest bathroom and Percy went in with her, despite the fact that it was the female's lavatory (indeed, he pushed his pride aside to walk into the female's lavatory. He wondered why women didn't consider him a dish and now, he didn't have to wonder why anymore). Percy watched in horror as eight-year-old Lucy washed her tongue with soap because apparently, the soap tasted better than his beloved butterscotch.

Percy had never been more ashamed to call someone his pseudo-daughter in his life. She didn't like _butterscotch_ , which meant that she didn't like _butterbeer_. What an appalling thought!

Percy wanted to be a level-headed, sophisticated individual and just accept that some people were unfortunately born with distorted taste buds, like Marcus Flint, whom, according to Ares, refused to consume chocolate because it decayed his teeth but ate waffles studded with _rocks_. Apparently, a starving six-year-old Marcus actually _ate_ his mum's _wedding ring_. Percy was not sure how Ares knew so much about Marcus and why he bothered telling Percy. All he did know was that at least Marcus was taking in all the minerals he needed to stay healthy with his diet.

However, Marcus liked butterscotch. Lucy did not. Thus, Percy was set off on a rant, filled with accurate statistical data and facts to prove his point to Lucy that _normal people_ ate butterscotch.

A fourteen-year-old Percy had produced charts and statistics for how popular each Fortescue's flavour was—specifically because a misinformed Bill said that pineapple ice-cream was more popular than Percy's dearly loved butterscotch ice-cream. It had unnerved Percy all summer long, it did! He actually spent a week unearthing fifty years' worth of data to attempt to defraud Bill's statement. He barricaded himself in his room to draw up the pie charts (whilst ignoring Gemma's many owls about how awkward having sex with him was. It would be far less awkward if she didn't send three owls a day about it for Merlin's sake!) and his diet consisted entirely of food that he'd enlist Scabbers to steal from the kitchen downstairs. For a whole week, Percy ate only sticky toffee pudding cake and frozen pumpkin juice. Despite the fact that he had spent the last six years suffering in the ward of imminent death, he was somehow able to remember the exact numbers on his faux report... yet Percy had honestly completely forgotten how his father looked like.

Yes, he _actually_ forgot how his father looked like. All Percy was sure of was that his hair was red. He was not even sure if his father had any freckles so to speak of. However, he was about fifty percent sure that his father, too, wore glasses so all was not lost.

Percy spent the next fifteen minutes pushing his oversized glasses up the bridge of his nose as he reminded her that butterscotch ice-cream was _far better_ and far more popular than the foul sour apple flavour that she insisted on getting every time she'd gone to Fortescue's (now with _apple rings_... which was, needless to say, the most detesting candy in the universe). In fact, butterscotch was 72% more popular than sour apple ice-cream. At this point, Bill got cross and reminded Percy that he shouldn't complain because now, he had two butterscotch ice-creams for himself and Lucy had none.

( _"Grand! She shouldn't have so many bloody sweets,"_ Percy said when Bill finished his statement, only for Bill to remind him that taking Lucy to Fortescue's was, in fact, Percy's idea.)

Percy walked into the shed and nearly dropped his half-eaten butterscotch ice-creams.

"This shed is now _my room?_ " Percy's head was pounding as he surveyed the room.

The shed once used to be Arthur's haven, absolutely filled to the brim with muggle toys and trinkets. All of which seemed to have vanished. The whole shed was painted into a bright yellow—an _unclean_ yellow if Percy was being honest about it. It looked like the colour of the muddy raincoats that his mum used to buy them half-off at second hand shops. His bed had to have been dismantled and re-assembled, because he didn't remember it being _this_ massive. A family of half-giants could probably take a kip on this bed! He also didn't recall owning all these books! There were so many books here that Percy's heart started to race. He looked over at the yellow wall and noticed that every single book was listed like it had been in his room before. He could vaguely how many books he had last time. The list was easily _double_ what he had before—and if he recalled correctly, he was suffocating under a sea of books last he'd walked into his room!

Percy reached over and placed his hand down on the more recent books added to the list.

"You read in French?" Percy had his family's handwritings memorised since he was a child.

Yes, he remembered his family's handwriting (and his father's) in extremely vivid detail but he could not say for certain whether his father did or did not wear glasses.

"I like to pretend that I read in French," Bill explained, smiling weakly. "My wife, Fleur, is French."

Percy's stomach was churning, because he didn't want to hear about Bill's wife. Admitting that Bill had a wife would be like admitting that the war happened and if he admitted the war had happened then he'd have to admit that he wasn't there. He was busy frolicking about in that stupid ward whilst _Bill got his face torn off and-and George lost an ear and Merlin, he could've lost any of his brothers or Ginny or his mum or_... _and what about Ron?!_ Percy didn't even want to think about him, because Ron was only eleven when Percy went missing and they had an awful relationship. Ginny! Ginny was _ten_. Now, she'd gone through puberty and did Godric knew what with—with _boys_. Fred and George were just tubby thirteen-year-olds in his head and now, look at them! There was more muscle in Fred's _hand_ than there was in Percy's whole body! Percy shook his head, turning away from the list on the wall. He didn't know why he was so bloody shocked about the differences between Fred and George then and how they were now! He'd been with them for _months_ and _now, he was having an existential crisis because Fred and George could bench press him?_

"Oh," was all that Percy said. Well, _that_ summed up exactly what was going on in his head.

"You were quiet for ages," Bill noticed, frowning. Percy wasn't sure when Bill had decided to sit on the bed or why he wanted Percy to open up his soul.

Percy nodded his head. "I'm aware."

Bill nodded his head, staying silent.

"I don't... cope well with change," Percy bit down his lower lip as he sat down beside Bill. He knew it was idiotic for him to open up to Bill, whom literally just hours ago had nearly pounded his face in. However, he was running short of time. He did have to regain some of his mental sanity to fight off a Greek God and he couldn't take his time in finding what was comfortable for him. "You have to understand. _I_ still act like I always did. In my head, Ginevra is _ten_. Ron is _eleven_. The twins are still _thirteen_. You are not married. Charlie's face is still somewhat intact. _Your_ face is intact. George's ear isn't missing for some blasted reason that I don't even want to think about. Ron was, indeed, befriending the Boy Who Lived but was not getting into dangerous missions with him. Ginevra is not getting a deal cut with the Holyhead Harpies even though she hasn't finished school yet! Godric, you people are _strangers_ to me."

" _You_ act like you _always_ do...?" Bill echoed incredulously. "Perce, you're joking."

Percy rolled his eyes. "Relatively speaking, I'm still the same as I always was!"

"And what are _those_?" Bill pointed towards the patch of mutilated skin from where his shirt had ridden up.

Percy wanted to pull his shirt down but he was too busy holding ice-cream cones. "That is not fair! I was in a ward that has a reputation for _torturing_ its patients to remedy their ailments!"

"We went through another war," Bill was speaking calmly this time. "Perce, this is just as scary as it is for _us_ as it is for _you_. You're unpredictable. Your behaviour is terrifying. You spit out the most unbelievable rubbish sometimes. The most confusing bloody things set you off and turn you into a blubbering mess. You are not the same as you always were—you _act_ like you're the same, but you're _not_. It's like someone has you under the Imperius and is trying to blend in and act like you, but is failing rather dramatically."

Bill made eye contact with Percy. "You know what? Fred _is_ right. You _are_ a lunatic—and you know it."

"I thought the saying goes is that if you're aware that you're insane, then it means that you are not, in fact, insane," Percy argued weakly, taking a lick of one of the cones. "Yes, I know."

Somehow, Bill had put it across in a way that made Percy accept it. Yes, he did know, deep down, that Fred was only telling him the truth. They were all thinking about Percy's brimming mentality (including Percy. Deep down, he knew it too but avoided it). George and Audrey had probably wanted to say something too, but refrained from fear that Percy would not only deny it but spiral deeper into his state of undoing.

It had to be exhausting for Audrey, Fred and George to make sure that he didn't just turn himself into a congealed mass of fleshy ribbons and fractured bones the minute that they took his eyes off him.

"Believe it or not," Percy mumbled, making eye contact with Bill. "I _am_ trying."

Bill smiled. "I know," he noticed that Percy was maintaining eye contact with him.

"Now," Percy turned around, cutting their moment short in order to attend to more pressing matters than his unsolicited depression. "Does this mean, that whilst people were shifting things from my room into this shed, that they had a look at my... _um_... collection of inappropriate magazines?"

Bill only smirked. "I believe Dad had a flick through them."

Percy immediately flushed. He bet he matched his own hair. "Let me guess: I do not want to know what his brimming comments regarding my taste in women, but you'll tell me anyway."

"Yes, I will," Bill beamed. "He said that most of the women you seem to like happen to have _mum's body_."

Percy could actually feel his brain disintegrate. Percy's brain was... shattered! Smashed! Ruined! If only he could cut his eyes with the pieces because the most abhorrent images were assaulting his delicate cornea. This was worse than the time that he'd walked in on his parents at it again _(as if they needed anymore bloody children!)._ "I suppose asking for you to _Obliviate_ me is a bit of a tall order, isn't it?"

"Have you had a look at Audrey—?"

Percy _squealed_. Like a pig. Very refined. "Audrey does not look like mum! She only has her eyes... and—"

"She practically wears the same robe size as our mum! And she has the same body shape too; all her weight is around the hips—just like our mum!" Bill exclaimed and Percy looked like he was about to faint. He wished he would, because that would end this terrible conversation. "Come on, Perce—"

"Bill, I will murder you... _I will actually murder you_ ," Percy threatened.

Bill only tossed his head back and laughed.

Opening the door to the shed was a very quiet-looking Fred, whom had his hand stuck into his pockets. Percy had seen George quiet a dozen times, usually over the most menial thing in the universe but seeing Fred quiet and sombre actually made him feel ill. The last time Fred looked like this was when he was eleven and one of the Slytherin seventh years threw cloth-eating powder on his clothes. Percy would never forget how scared and vulnerable Fred looked like then, standing starkers in the middle of the corridor whilst attempting not to cry. The whole school had a laugh about it. George was sent into hysterics. He'd broken a seventh year's arm with his own bare hands—and then refused to apologise for it.

Percy could see that same visible vulnerability in those big dark eyes then as he did now.

The worst part of it was that Percy was certain that he was the reason for why Fred was so glum.

"Mum told Fleur who told Charlie who told me to tell you that supper's ready and if you aren't there in ten minutes, then you're going to have to make do with steamed celery and bread rolls," Fred said flatly.

"Bill, you may leave. I would like to talk to Fred as I do not mind having steamed celery and bread rolls for dinner," Percy said, watching Bill nod his head and leave the shed.

" _I_ mind if I eat bread rolls for dinner," Fred didn't sound like himself. He walked inside the shed.

His eyes immediately fixated over to a pile of Slytherin coats, blankets, scarves and the legendary Weasley jumpers tossed in a corner of the room. Percy hadn't noticed its existence until then.

"You know, mum still made you jumpers and scarves every Christmas," Fred said, his voice soft. "She kept on knitting them bigger every year. It's like she expected a half-giant to come home. Last Christmas Eve, she spent the whole night making this _massive_ blanket. Slytherin colours and all. She came to the shed. She took out all your clothes, put them into a pile, and then put the blanket over it. You know she spent a whole month asking Hermione how to use a permanent scent sticking charm? Perce, she tried to make that blanket smell like _you_. George and I found her huddled up here Christmas Day, after we've opened our presents, and she was holding that stupid ruddy blanket and she was _crying_ , Perce... because she couldn't bloody tell if it actually did smell like you. She forgot how you were like and it terrified her."

Percy inched closer to the pile, gawking at it. He recalled the days where his mum refused to let him go out of the house without wearing the whole closet's contents' worth of scarves and gloves.

Fred placed his hand on Percy's arm. "I thought about it, Perce and I'm not taking it back. What I said about you being a lunatic that only wants to snuff himself in. You _are_ ," he offered a weak smile. "But I _am_ sorry about telling the whole of Twilfitt and Tatting's that you've shagged a nurse—"

"Did you really have to word the situation in this manner?" Percy sighed deeply. "I understand. Thank you for telling me that I've a broom shoved so far along my arse that it managed to do my head in."

Fred beamed at Percy's choice of words and then attacked Percy into a tight embrace. Percy nearly dropped his ice-creams. Percy's eyes wondered to the window, and he caught sight of two figures outside the Burrow.

"Fred? What are these two heathens doing in our childhood home? _Besides_ stealing my room that is!" Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint were standing beside each other, chattering on—probably about nothing in particular. "And why is it that Marcus Flint _still_ looks exactly the way he did when he was eleven?"

Fred pulled away and took a look over at them. "Mum unofficially adopted Oliver because he was an orphan that had nowhere to go—and he was part of the Order of the Phoenix. Flint is staying here because Penelope threw him out of their flat. Oh! I forgot to mention this to you ages ago. I was going to tell you about it when I was talking to you about what changed in the last six years—remember? When I said that Ron was training to be an Auror, Dad got a promotion—yada, yada... I forgot to mention that Penelope Clearwater and Flint tied the knot a year ago and had a baby four months ago. It turned out that Penelope was under the Greek variant of the Imperius and Aphrodite was just trying to weed information from Flint so their marriage is null. Mum nearly cried when she heard about it. You know how she's like with these things. Athena is bloody livid about the fact that someone dropped in a note for you in the ward and she wants your complete destruction and she recruited Higgs to torture who she suspects sent you that note... I think Wood knows but he's not letting me on. He's the one that updated me on this bollocks."

Percy was staring at Fred as if he was speaking in Parseltongue. He recalled the note that clarified what his epilepsy actually was. He didn't know who sent it to him. He had just about everyone's handwritings memorised and he didn't recognise it at all.

"You arseholes should've told me about this!" Percy was irritated to say the least. Fred's statements and implications suddenly sunk into his big, fat head. "Wait, _Penelope_ and _Marcus?_ "

He paled dramatically. A sudden, deep-seated contempt of Marcus Flint started to form into his stomach. He would not have accepted that that stupid, foolish part-troll had- _had fertilised_ one of the sweetest, smartest girls he'd ever known! Sure, Marcus was harmless and all around a decent character if one were to disregard the amount of times he'd get into detention or the times that he'd clipped Penelope's knickers to a cauldron. Percy was sure that he once threw a rock at her during Divination. The thought that he had touched Penelope in _that_ way made his blood boil. He could recall how Penelope looked like after what happened with Roger. He clenched his jaw and formed fists with his hands. From that moment on, Percy Weasley had decided that he _loathed_ Marcus Flint.

"Percy, I don't think you're supposed to be that red for longer than five minutes," Fred's voice brought him back to reality and Percy was thinking of smashing Marcus' head in until tea stated to seep from his ears.

"I am going to see Penelope," Percy decided in an eerily calm voice, "Then I am going to figure out what to do with this Greek God calamity. I am going to owl Ares. I am going to exchange a few words with him regarding our arrangement because thus far, all I've done is pity myself for having have been stuck in the ward for the last few years. I am going to come back home and cry myself to sleep in my room... which was once my father's shed... and when I wake up in the morning, I will tear off Marcus Flint's face."

MILES Bletchley's mum did not find him funny.

Apparently, having patches of thick, seeping burns lying atop thirty-five percent of his body was nothing to laugh about. Well, the healer had said thirty-five percent, but his mum insisted that it was a _zillion_ percent.

Miles didn't waste his time in explaining to her that that would require him to look like a cauldron bottom.

He did, however, show his utmost irritation over the fact that none of his burns covered that awful birthmark that he had around his ear, the one that made him look like he was suffering from a chronic ear infection. Miles could remember that when he was fourteen, Terence used to go around to all the other houses and convinced them that Miles had an STD... in his ear. Because really, when you shagged someone, you put your ear into their... _never mind_.

Fortunately, the thirty-two year-old triplets Aubrey, Anna and Anthony Bletchley seemed to think that all that Miles needed was the whole of Madame Primpernelle's selection of skin-changing creams to attempt to blend the burns into Miles' skin (it worked for all of three minutes until Miles started to scratch his burned skin raw... and then he went into septic shock and nearly died because all that scratching allowed all those nasty little bugs to get into his bloodstream. But it was a valiant effort!)

Thirteen-year-old half-vampire Hans and Hannah Bletchley had decided that they would rather take pictures of Miles looking half dead for a Halloween party. Miles thought that this was not hard to do, especially considering that he'd approached near death nine times in the past month alone.

Miles felt like St Mungo's had to brush up on their definition of ' _near death_ '. Nobody could be in ' _near death'_ nine times in one month. That's two and a quarter _'near death'_ experience per week! How could one have a _quarter_ of a _'near death'_ experience? Was that what they called it when you accidentally forgot to zip up your trousers when you were done taking a piss?

Miles didn't have to worry about that. He had a charmed catheter—cleaned itself on the clock!

When Aubrey, Anna and Anthony's 'treatment' fell short, Miles' twenty-nine year old triplet siblings Louis, Loki and Lucas decided that the best way to cheer Miles up was to attempt to 'make him colder' since he was a _burn_ patient. Miles would not go into detail but apparently, their treatment had turned his vomit could be cold and gelatinous. He had also discovered that his blood could clump up into thick clots.

He supposed that this _might_ have attributed to the nine ' _near death'_ experiences he had within the month but he really thought that the main culprit behind it was the devastating moulded salmon mousse his mum had insisted on bringing over for lunch because he was 'looking poorly.'

Miles had never seen healers bolt out of a room so fast before.

They found his burns fetching and the smell of the noxious fumes coming out of them tolerable, but just one look over at the moulded salmon mousse...

As for the two-year-old half-vampire twins, Gabe and Gina—they bloody well enjoyed sinking their teeth into Miles' neck ... _literally_. Miles was sure this did not help the fact that he was 'severely' anaemic. According to his mum, Miles blended right into his hospital cot from how pale he'd gotten.

Miles still didn't know how he could look severely pale and also have burns on his skin.

Thus, Miles had coined himself as the Zebra Man. Miles' mum, Stephanie, coined Miles as ' _dead if he did not take this seriously I swear to Merlin and King bloody Arthur and all the Knights of the Godric forsaken round table...'_

At the current moment, Miles was glad to say that he was not dead, which was always good news. His mum was sitting down beside him carrying one of his many children.

It was important to mention that Miles' wife, Mallory Bletchley (née _Flint_ ), had only gotten knocked up twice, and now, Miles had five children. Yes, that was right. He had _five_ bloody children... and he was only twenty-bloody-two. Perhaps, it was not a good idea to marry one massive family into _another_ massive family, especially when both families bred faster than Pygmy Puffs. Soon enough, Miles supposed that his children would overrule the wizarding world—a good back-up plan if Weasley mucked up his plan to attempt to rescue humanity from a temperamental, prissy Greek God that had Daddy issues; not unlike Weasley himself. Until then though, he would keep on attempting to use small words to explain to his incredibly beautiful and loving Mallory the concept of protection ("Mal, darling, I love you to bloody bits but when I say protection, I mean taking birth control potions. I mean me wearing a never-pop-condom. I do _not_ mean that you should put protection wards all over our bedroom... especially if _I_ can't get in them!")

Bless Mal's heart. She still believed in Father Christmas and bought up biscuits for him every year—but this year, she was abandoning the luxury of her home to come spend the day with him! He thought this was an extremely sweet gesture... and a life-saving one, because his mum was going to make him a wobbly Christmas pudding comprised primarily out of cottage cheese and artificial sweeteners.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing, Bletchley?" Marcus walked inside, carrying Miles' baby in his arms.

Miles only offered a warm smile. He had no doubt that he had dark circles under his eyes because he was Zebra Man, he whose face was paler than snow, but still looked like he'd been socked twice. "Me? Why, I'm just wondering how lucky I am to marry one of your beautiful sisters."

"Bletchley, you're not fooling anyone," Marcus said, offering the baby to Miles. He took his son graciously and stared down at him with big warm dark eyes.

Miles frowned as he took in Marcus' look. It was either a long day or just a bloody awful month.

Miles wouldn't lie. He felt awful around Marcus pretty much all the time. Seeing his ex-mate reminded him of all the bollocks he used to do to him in Hogwarts. Adrian hated him, so it meant that Miles and Terence had to at least pretend to hate him. They pretended very well because he had no idea how in Merlin's good given name that Marcus even _allowed_ him to marry one of his sisters.

If the situation was swapped, Miles would've burned Marcus' crotch. Speaking of which, Miles thankfully had averted having much done to the area. _Much_ being the keyword. He could still feel _some_ kind of sensation down there, not all but enough that he didn't whine about it... much.

"I heard about Penelope," Miles said in a very soft voice. "I'm so sorry, mate."

"I'm bloody sick of people telling me that they're sorry," Marcus said. He didn't sound like himself. He was shivering. Come to think of it, Marcus was wearing a thick scarf and what looked like three jumpers underneath. Godric. It was only September, and this bloke was acting like it was smack in the middle of winter. Come to think of it, he'd never seen Marcus this cold before. "I'm bloody sick of people in general."

Miles shook his head. "Merlin, who's been grinding you up lately?"

 _"Lately?"_ Marcus echoed. "I'm not even going to bother telling you what's wrong with that sentence."

"Mum?" Miles looked over at Stephanie, whom immediately took the bubbly baby from Miles' arms and then left the room.

When the door was shut after, Miles took the time to _really_ look at Marcus. He had wrinkles around his eyes and his cheekbones seemed more prominent than usual. He looked like he belonged in a coffin somewhere. "Godric, what has been going on with you?" Miles said in a soft voice. "Come over here."

Marcus shook his head, but his shoulders shook even more violently. He wrapped his arms around his chest.

Miles frowned deeply. "Marcus, what is going on?"

The part-troll only cocked his head to one side and then offered a weak smile. "I'm not sure. I think my parts are frozen off," he said, placing his hand on his own arm and rubbing it softly. "I'm just tired. I feel so lethargic and... Oliver said that we could leave the country together and..."

Marcus' voice drifted off. He looked like he was about to plummet into his own death any waking moment.

"Adrian Pucey is in a coma," Marcus finally decided to mention and turned to adjust the wires around Miles' arm. Miles felt his heart sink into his chest because he didn't even know that Adrian was sick.

Last Miles had heard of him, he was playing on the Reserve team for an awful Quidditch team. He spent the whole night taking the mickey out of him as he drank with his elder siblings whilst the younger ones slept. He didn't think it was possible—that someone that he knew, someone that he shared a chocolate frog with on many occasions, someone that used to wake him up in the morning to kill spiders in the common room showers, someone that _used to be one of his best mates_ was comatose... _and Miles didn't even know about it_.

Miles swallowed the lump in his throat. "What did that bastard do?"

Marcus smiled weakly. "He got tortured by the Cruciatus, by his own bloody father. The arsehole was a Death Eater that went into hiding after the first war was done with to help bring You-Know-Who back. That's where he was all that time. Pucey was under the Cruciatus for so long that...he couldn't feel anything after," he cocked his head to one side and swallowed. Miles felt nauseous. "Spent a month with him after the war. He kept on leaving the hospital and getting admitted within days. The clumsy tosser came in with internal bleeding about three times a week once. Every time he came in, he hugged me and we talked like we were old mates. Like he didn't used to put lice in bed or tear my homework moments before it was due. He ended up getting a bad bloodstream infection. Had a big slash on his back that he didn't know existed. His mum noticed it. She took him here, and everyone thought that they had it under control. She left to go home because she thought he was okay. We all thought that he was fucking—

"Bloody hell, he was _smiling_. He looked bloody comfortable, but his skin was all rubber like he was dead. I thought he was taking the piss out of me." Marcus angrily wiped away the tears at the corner of his eyes. "He didn't bloody apologise for all the bollocks he did to me in Hogwarts... over his bloody Divination debacle in fifth year. Merlin, it didn't matter to _me_ that he didn't but—maybe it did to the bastard. Maybe he wanted to say something, and he bloody lost the courage. He isn't in bleeding Gryffindor for a reason; you know... and I know that he wanted to say _something_. He wanted to say something every bloody day but he didn't. I'm scared that he's fucking cursing himself in his head and I should've told him when he was alive that I don't give a rat's arse about what he did then because I know that he needed to hear that. Maybe even if I said it, he'd still blame himself because Pucey forgets that he's not sculpted out of ice."

Marcus exhaled. "We did worse things when we were mates for Salazar's sake. _Of course I bloody_..."

Miles stared at Marcus with big, glossy eyes. "Do you think that we could be mates?" he had wanted to say that for so long himself. He had wanted to rekindle something that had happened so long

"You can't be my mate," Marcus snorted. His smile was small. " _You're_ too busy being my brother-in-law."

"Your _very hot_ brother-in-law," Miles said with a similar small sad curl of his lips.

 _I wonder_... Miles thought with a heavy heart. He felt an ache in his limbs that wouldn't go away no matter how much he slept, _I wonder if they're doing the right thing and still massaging his hair with flobberworm mush._

PENELOPE Clearwater saw Marcus Flint walk down the hallway and immediately ran up to him, not caring if she would ruin her black strappy heels or her most favourite pink floral frock. Ever since their separation _months_ ago, Penelope had been looking for this bastard.

She _thought_ it would be easy to find a five-foot-nine troll that came into work every day—a five-foot-nine troll with the _very_ distinctive smell of dusty windows and manky socks!

Penelope immediately slammed him into the wall and pressed her lips against his. His hand instantly slipped into her thigh. She felt suddenly alive and reawakened. Penelope tried to owl him a dozen times over the past few weeks, but Oliver Wood normally sent her letters back and insisted that she not communicate with him if she knew what was best for her! What a bastard. If she had time (Avis was a handful. Penelope literally showered only three times a week since she'd had her), she would've made a Floo call to the Burrow—mostly to kill Wood, and then reclaim her bloody husband back for Merlin's sake.

In the beginning, Ayden was over the moon that she'd left him but he noticed the change. She had become a shell of who she was in a matter of days. Whenever Avis did anything adorable, she looked over her shoulder as if she bloody expected Marcus to materialise in front of her and share the moment. _She needed him_. She hated that she needed him. She hated that she'd somehow fallen in love with him. With him gone, there was nothing but an empty solid feeling in her chest. Like something was missing. Sleep was impossible.

Penelope's hands were on Marcus' shoulders. "Come. Back. Home. _Right now_."

"What if I don't want to go back, Clearwater?" Marcus asked with a smirk. With the way that he was gripping onto her as if he would die if he let go, she could guess that he was in no way serious.

 _"Flint,"_ Penelope corrected— _it felt good to correct him_ —realising she probably looked like a mess. She'd snogged him so hard that she left a red smack from her lipstick on his mouth. "Marcus, you're freezing."

"Yes, I'm aware," Marcus rolled his eyes and she let out a deep sigh.

"Marcus, I'm serious. There is _ice_ in your hair," Penelope had just noticed, placing her hand against his locks— _her husband's_ hair. She remembered how repulsed she felt like, how that all suddenly disappeared when she went to sleep and he wasn't there. She couldn't take a potion either just in case baby Avis woke up... who, at _four months_ , already started to understand. "Marcus, forget the flat. You need to be looked at."

"I'm cold," Marcus grumbled, complaining. "I don't have a cold... I'm fine."

"No, you are _not_." Penelope grabbed his arm. Godric, he was bonier than usual too. This was not boding well. What had he done to himself in the past few months? She was feeling incredibly guilty. She _should_ feel incredibly guilty because this probably wouldn't have happened if she hadn't kicked him out of their flat.

"How much is your normal body temperature?" she asked, walking into the room she'd been in moments ago and having him lie down. Holly was standing by the counter. Obviously, she hadn't noticed that Penelope had left at all within the last few moments because she was still chattering about the broomsticks.

"Forty," Marcus replied as she stuck the thermometer in his mouth. Penelope's face went white when she pulled out that thermometer minutes after. She wondered how on earth he wasn't unconscious... or dead.


	51. Chapter 51

_**response to any inquiries made on the previous chapter:**_

 _ **FairyRave** : oh, you'd definitely get your angsty fills within the next few chapters. these chapters are full of them with the only breaks in between that you get is for me to write a mildly comical scene! i've come to believe that i live off torturing characters. i've reread the following last 8 chapters or so dozens of times and i'm quite content with them! i hope you enjoy them! _

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Chapter Fifty-One

* * *

"I don't _need_ this," Marcus argued when Penelope had him hooked to an IV line filled with warm fluids—of which was charmed to put Marcus back into his bed if he were ever to move. These charmed IV lines were typically used for temperamental, obnoxious children that attempted to sneak away from their bed the minute that they had the chance. Marcus, in Penelope's opinion, fit the bill quite nicely.

Oliver, holding Marcus' gloved hand, was staring over at him with agape expression. Penelope was glad that he was quiet for one... then again; it wasn't every day that your best mate slowly succumbed to hypothermia right in front of your eyes for relatively no reason whatsoever.

Marcus' lips and hands turned into a nice blueberry colour that matched his Marcus' underpants (yes, Penelope knew what colour underpants he was wearing because the baggy fuzzy thermal pants that Oliver had lent him kept on sliding down whenever he sat up.)

"I'm fine," Marcus complained, placing his hands on the blankets underneath. Penelope believed that he had all of Diagon Alley's supply of thermal blankets. It was astounding how his condition hadn't improved. If anything, it just seemed to get _worse_... even though he should've been boiling right now. "I don't need this."

"Mate, there are _snowflakes_ in your hair," Oliver stated in disbelief.

Marcus leaned back against Oliver's bed and shuddered as if the temperature dropped. Penelope didn't know how this was possible. "I want to go to my flat and see my bloody daughter before I ruddy die."

"You are _not_ going to die in here. Do you think I would allow you to die?" Penelope hissed coldly but to be honest, she was terrified. She wasn't sure how in Merlin's name he was alive and breathing right now with how low his core temperature was. In fact, he was so cold that Penelope felt a chill just staring at him. "And I am _not_ taking you to the flat! I'm freezing in there. It's absolutely murderously cold. I have all the heaters in Britain in there and I still feel like I'm walking on ice cubes. There is no way I am taking my hypothermic husband there! You'll die of dysrthymia before you make it to the bed!"

Marcus grumbled under his breath. Penelope pretended that she didn't hear half the rubbish he said.

"You can go fetch Avis, love," Molly said from behind Penelope, scaring her because she'd forgotten that Molly was there. She'd been quiet thus far. Standing beside her was Viola Flint. Penelope swore to Merlin that if Viola said something about Marcus not needing warming potions and warm fluid resuscitation, then Penelope was going to throw her into the Great Lake. "I have this completely under control."

"Those warming potions—every hour on the hour," Penelope said sternly. "Even if he's having a kip, or he's hibernating. Wake him up and force him to take it. If he's not getting any better, give him two an hour."

Penelope had never given anyone two warming potions in an hour. She was afraid that they would combust.

Marcus groaned in irritation. "But I'm fine!" he exclaimed.

Oliver had decided that this was the perfect time to remind Penelope that he was an Animagus by turning into a great big shaggy-haired dog with thin streaks of black fur on his stomach—to signify his rock-hard abdominals. The Scot jumped atop the bed, lying beside a shaking Marcus.

"Don't worry, Flint!" came Fred's voice from the door. "We'll help!"

 _"YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!"_ Molly exclaimed. Penelope was trying to ignore the sight of the bright boxes floating behind Fred and George. If they killed Marcus, she was going to strap them down to Avis' cot and leave them there until they died of neglect. _"YOU DON'T TOUCH HIM! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"_

Seeing Viola about to open her mouth, Penelope apparated away. She couldn't particularly prevent Marcus from dying of hypothermia if she was busy serving time in Azkaban for cracking open his mum's skull.

PERCY felt a solid feeling in his stomach. He was stewing in his own hatred. He did not want to hate himself anymore ( _surprise_ : he still loathed himself and he wished that he could clone himself just so his clone could break every single bone in his body in the most excruciating way possible).

Instead of dwelling on how much he wanted to snuff it in these weeks, he focused on making up vivid scenarios in his head. The darkness was an old friend, greeting him back into its warm, lulling embrace...

And Percy found comfort in _that_ part of him. _Those_ thoughts assaulted his mind when he least expected it.

Within the past month, they were directed mostly at Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint.

He was not sure why his thoughts were projected towards these two. He could've been thinking of Ares or the ward nurses or his father, or the twins, or Terence or Miles or anyone else... but he _wasn't_.

Percy often wished to stab Adrian in the back like he stabbed Percy in the back—for no good bloody reason. If he were to do such a thing (he would not. He was _not_ a murderer), he would use a large kitchen knife. He would watch the blood pour like a fountain. He would let it cover his very quintessence. Adrian's sweet, _chocolate-frog-sweet_ blood. Probably as runny as his nose in the summer time, and as delicate as his fingertips...

And Marcus!

If Percy had it his way, he would throw Marcus into the Great Lake, suspending his body into an endless watery abyss. He wondered if Marcus would swim to save his life or succumb to his fate immediately.

Percy would watch from afar, sitting down by the rocks where he would remember the days where he and Adrian shared frozen pumpkin juice and warm blankets together.

He would wait for Marcus to resurface, and if he did, Percy would push him back again—to plunge into the sea of what he'd made for himself. He would watch Marcus slowly disintegrate into bone and flesh. His blood would betray him. He would wash up on the shore like the skeleton he was, his thin skin pulled apart, leaving a bundle of bone, cartilage and muscle in its wake.

He would let Penelope see her so called _husband_. She could touch his unmoving body if she wanted to.

But Marcus wouldn't be able to touch her anymore.

Percy would never voice these thoughts out to anyone. He would not write them down. He did not normally allow himself to even dwell on them. They chased him in dreams and yet he ran away. However, they soothed him like a child's lullaby. They were his _(very)_ guilty pleasure.

He loved the war and the war ran in his blood. He could smell death in his happy moments.

Percy was sure that if he was not in the ward, he would've taken on the Dark Mark. The temptation would be too much. He would not be able to take it. It was a beautiful work of art—pristine in every way. It was purer than even _pureblood_. It was a state of being that Percy would've always longed to transcend to.

He loathed himself for not being there with his family for the war; _for not being in the war_.

Percy would've sat in a corrupt Ministry and cherished every single missing file because he could see a world renew from the ashes of those that died. This world would disappear and a new world would unearth itself—like a flower blossoming in the spring, only to die come winter days.

Percy loved the winter days, where the world was coated into something pure. _As pure as the Dark Mark_.

There was something about the scent of fresh flowers resting over cold, decaying flesh that made a warm tingle form in his stomach—like the first bite of his mum's chocolate cake, like the first time he'd put on a jumper when he was cold, like every hug he'd ever received. _That_ warm gooeyness in the bottom of his stomach. Except it would be amplified to such great extents that nothing in the universe could ever come to it. It was his fascination, the one that he could not help but yearn with every cell of his being. He used to deny himself the feeling of warmth. He used to tell him that it was wrong... _putrid_ , to think of such things.

A five-year-old Percy tried to run away. An eleven-year-old Percy _did_ run away.

 _The war..._

It was like Arthur's eyes lighting up when he took a muggle toy to his shed. It was like his mum when she made them pull their jumpers over their heads and gather around the mantelpiece for a family picture ( _"it's been too long!"_ she'd say, even though she probably took one not only weeks ago.) It was like Charlie when he pointed towards a patch of burned skin and chattered on about it. It was like Percy finding Bill by the counter, putting on an earring whilst he told Percy that he might get a more proper piercing (" _don't tell mum. She'll have my head_.") It was the twins jump up in delight as they watched ten-year-old Ron leave the room with hair that _glowed_ (" _Mum, at least you won't have trouble trying to find him at King's Cross station!"_ ). It was like Ron and Ginny running around happily after they beat Bill and Charlie in a Quidditch game.

The _war_ was like that to Percy—and he was hallow without it. A shell of a shell of a shell of a man.

They didn't understand the temptation burned into his bones. They didn't understand how it was to _like_ _death_. They didn't understand how it was like to _yearn_ for _bloodshed_.

They didn't understand that he didn't go to funerals not because he didn't like them, but because inside, he _laughed_. This was the cycle of the universe. The death would make the new flowers grow, and the new flowers would die—the live people would eat them, but the living would die and then from them, new flowers would emerge. Death gave life, and life gave death.

The ward didn't torture him.

The ward liberated that very part of him that he kept buried so deep into himself that he felt like it had disappeared from the world, forever. He'd spent years forming this mask and it was torn away in seconds. He was sat in the midst of the darkness. The dark was his biggest fear and here it was, cradling him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He fell asleep to its soothing promises. Six-year-old Percy yearned for his mother but this new stranger promised him the biggest books, the most beautiful flowers, the sweetest candy and the best family. He knew he should listen to his mum. She told him not to talk to strangers, but the stranger was a blinding light. The stranger was a woman, fair and beautiful. It wasn't like the scary women he read about in books long ago. She told him to stop fighting it, that _thing_ that was buried deep inside him. She stripped away every thick layer of his skin to find a soul that was as dark as her eyes.

He could not see. He was exposed. He was crumbling. He yearned for blood like a vampire did. He wished to see it spill. His weakness, his repulsiveness, his very being...

 _Percy let his own blood spill._

He chose his mother instead of the glossy-eyed stranger that gave him rose-tinted glasses and empty promises for she offered real roses despite her emptier promises.

He would destroy himself before he could will himself to destroy the universe.

PERCY attempted to ignore the warmth that spread across his stomach when he caught sight of a shuddering, extremely pale Marcus Flint that was lying on Oliver Wood's bed.

He did not know why his parents had insisted on getting a dog, and he did not know why it was sleeping beside a weary Marcus. He also didn't know why he hadn't seen the dog until recently. However, Percy knew that many dogs seemed to be attracted to noxious scents.

He supposed that Marcus' scent was probably a light springtime perfume for these little buggers.

As he stared at the blue-tinged Marcus, he felt his blood boiling and a rage encompassing his frame just thinking to himself that this- _this thing_ had ever _touched_ Penelope. He could see how vulnerable she was as Alec Lestrange attempted to strangle her with her own golden locks. He could also see vibrant images of the finger-shaped bruises on Marcus' neck begin to form in his mind. Percy had never felt the genuine need to strangle someone as intensely as he did right then.

Percy put his hands into his pockets because he did not trust himself not to do it.

"You're supposed to have bloody evapourated by now!" cried out an exasperated Terence Higgs, whom was feeding him what looked to be a strong warming potion that didn't look like it was taking any effect.

"Don't know how the bastard could look at me without morphing into a puddle!" Miles flexed his extremely muscled arm. Merlin, Bletchley himself looked like he needed to be admitted into the hospital due to how extensively burned he was. He was smacking Marcus' IV line... the fluids that were _supposed_ to be warming him up seemed to have solidified. Molly was tapping her wand against it, muttering a warming spell that once set Ginny's ribbons on fire. Unfortunately, it would've even do as little as melt the solid bit of the liquid.

 _"THAT'S NOT FUNNY! HE'S DYING! THIS IS NO TIME TO MAKE A JOKE!"_ Molly exclaimed hotly, waving her short, pudgy arms into the air. She looked more stressed than she ever was. Percy felt an envy fill his chest. Merlin, she probably even cared for Flint more than she cared for him.

Marcus struggled to breathe. His cheeks and tongue tinged into a nice blue, matching the rest of his body.

They probably couldn't move him out of this room without risking his imminent death. Percy somehow doubted that a hospital could do much more for him. He did, however, wonder why a part-troll was dying of hypothermia in the middle of this Merlin-forsaken weather...

Then it seemed to hit him so hard he'd felt like a thing of ice just cut his cheek. He shuddered, his spine stiffening. Percy's heart started to pound in his chest. The anger running in his blood had... _disappeared_.

A whimper sounded out. Percy thought it was the pup until he realised it was bloody Marcus.

"It's alright, lad, it's alright..." Miles tried to soothe a shaking, frigid Marcus. He placed a hand on Marcus' shoulder and then immediately pushed it off, shuddering in cold.

Suddenly, the dark-eyed woman had left him abandoned in middle of the streets.

He was searching for his mum, but now, he was scared and standing in the middle of nowhere. Percy was freezing his arse off. He was hungry. Six-year-old Percy was far away from his mum, and Molly would be bloody livid if she found out that he'd gone along with the sparkly-haired lady with eyes darker than his soul.

Percy sobered up. He thought lucidly. All memories of the ward were muddled. He could remember nothing that went on there. The woman that promised him a thousand wishes had granted him none.

For the millionth time since Percy left the ward, a stark revelation came to his mind— _the biggest yet!_

It was more real than feeling birds flitter around his chest and seeing the accumulation of dirt under his nails. The images of his violent fantasies started to come alive again. Instead of giving him immediate warmth, they made his whole body tingle with a heaviness. For the first time in his life, Percy felt very... _human_.

Percy felt the sadness that he should've felt years ago when he saw his uncle Gideon and Fabian. He shuddered at the thought of their pallid faces and their long bodies in that coffin. He longed to hear them laugh. He felt a sickness that came to him at the thought of death. He felt cold now... no longer warm or soothed by it. Its saccharine lullabies were faker than the cherry candy that his mum used to try and feed him during the first wizarding world, the one that he spat into the bin whenever she wasn't looking. He thought of harming that long-haired eleven-year-old that used to drank hot chocolate with him late at night, the one that used to follow him around and chatter incessantly about flobberworm mush and it physically hurt Percy. A feeling of disgust came to his mind, thinking of harming that eleven-year-old part-troll that made harmless parchment paper balls out of his assignments and threw them over at people that irritated him.

He felt the _happiness_ that he should've felt like when the war ended.

Minutes ago, he wished to immerse Marcus Flint in the cold water until he disintegrated into nothing more than flesh and bone, not even blood. It was a fantasy—a shameful fantasy that he would never allow himself to indulge in normally because Percy's mask was so well formed he sometimes felt humane. His perfectionist behaviour made sure that the mask would not crumble. _Yet it did_. The ward took it away, but now he had a _new mask in his hands_ , one that seemed to fit in the spaces in him that he thought would _always_ be empty...

Percy had somehow forgotten that he was a holder of _uncontrollable, spastic magic_. Marcus was in danger every since Percy had started dreaming of cold water baths.

"Marcus? Marcus?" Miles cocked his head to one side. "Marcus, are you alright, lad?"

"Yup, he's bloody brilliant," said Terence in a cold voice. "I didn't know that part of your ruddy brain tissue got burned in the process too, Bletchley—"

 _"Shut up!"_ Miles said, paling significantly.

Percy watched as warming potions spilled from Marcus' mouth, solidifying. He was so cold that even being near him brought shivers to Percy's skin—Percy, whom had only felt cold about three times in his life. Marcus sneezed, frosty snot leaving his nose. His eyes were almost as white as the rest of him.

"This is not working!" Molly decided to point out. She pushed her wand away from his saline and called out a charm. Marcus levitated soon afterwards. "To the bathroom! I'm going to draw him a hot water bath for now but-but... _SOMEONE GO GET CHARLIE!_ He-he'll know what to do! He should be in Diagon Alley. I don't know where b-b-but..."

Percy put him back down on his bed. Marcus squirmed uncomfortably as Percy leaned down and placed his hands onto the bloke's shoulder. Marcus instantly melted at Percy's touch. The ice in his hair immediately liquidised, his eyes turning into a less opaque grey, and Marcus let out a wheeze. He started to cough, water escaping from his mouth and his face turned immediately red and sweaty. Percy leaned over to disconnect the warming fluid from Marcus' hand, but the IV—which had just started to respond to the heating charms applied to it, suddenly burst, sending hot water everywhere. Marcus jolted, just about barely avoiding getting splashed by a wave of extremely hot water. Marcus looked extremely fatigued, his arms and shoulders sagging with exhaustion and an unnatural redness came about his cheek.

"Percy," Molly stared agape at her son with a flabbergasted expression on her face. "You—"

Marcus coughed, sputtering water from his mouth. He looked so lethargic. Another whimper left his lips and he wrapped his arms around his body, shivering very lightly but also very visibly.

"I am so sorry," Percy could barely choke out his apologies. "I had no idea that whatever I had done would result to this! I believed that whatever was in my head was just a mindless fantasy! I was a fool, a—"

The small dog sat beside Marcus suddenly morphed into Oliver Wood. This nearly made Percy jump out of his own skull. He was more impressed that Oliver Wood had it in him to become an Animagus because from what Percy knew, it was an extremely difficult and labourious task.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat as Oliver stood there; glowering at Percy as if he was the one that put Marcus in this predicament in the first place... which he was _true_. He accidentally froze Marcus when he was fantasising about freezing him. It was completely and utterly his fault—

Oliver grabbed Percy by his arms and then shoved against the wall. Percy heard something crack.

 _"OLIVER!"_ Molly shrieked.

 _"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!"_ Percy exclaimed, tears burning at the corner of his eyes.

 _"HOW **DARE** YOU BLOODY TOUCH HIM?!"_ Oliver exclaimed, reaching over to grab the handful of growing, but barely there red curls and tugging at it. _"HOW DID YOU DO IT? HOW?! I DON'T BLAME THE RUDDY MINISTRY FOR LOCKING YOU UP—!"_

Molly pulled Oliver away from Percy. _"OLIVER, THAT IS ENOUGH!"_

She immediately spun towards Marcus when she noticed that he was shaking. "Marcus, love? Marcus, are you alright? Come on. Let's get you draw you a nice hot bath..."

Percy rubbed his neck and stared down at Marcus with an apologetic look. He pushed back his tears away. He didn't deserve to shed them. He caught sight of Miles' shocked look. Terence curled his hands up into fists, looking like he wanted to reorganise Percy's anatomical structures—with his own bare hands that was.

Percy did not know if he liked the idea of this. He happened to like his bodily organs situated right where they were, given the fact that he had not considered changing their location since his birth.

Oliver's gaze was so fierce that it could've burned a hole through Percy's brain. "Bastard."

"I..." Percy's throat was closing up. He crossed his freckly arms over his chest. "I suppose that... I might have mucked up, but it is not entirely on purpose and I... I have an appalling, unpardonable explanation and I don't blame you if you loathe me for the rest of eternity," he offered a weak smile at the end. His heart stopped when he heard the sounds from just outside the bedroom.

 _"Marcus?"_ Percy heard a voice echo outside, a confused female voice. He knew that voice. Penelope.

 _"Molly?"_ Percy did recognise that voice. His father's voice.

 _"Mum?"_ he did not recognise those voices. A boy and a girl. Foreign to him.

"Excuse me a moment... as I'll tend to the lot outside," Percy nervous said to the trio standing before him, looking ready to perform the Killing Curse on him.

Percy swallowed and turned to leave the bedroom, bracing himself for either a spontaneous mental breakdown or an unexpected something— _something good_ he hoped as he hadn't felt so human since he'd been in the ward! In fact, he didn't feel so human _before_ the ward.

Percy left the room, heart racing in his chest. Penelope was now towering over his six-foot-frame with her heels. Standing beside her was a young blonde with the trademark straight Clearwater blonde hair that Penelope had lost a long time ago. Arthur _(glasses!)_ looked older than usual. Two redheads, one with freckled cheeks (it _had_ to be Ginny. _It just had to be_. Percy knew that freckle distribution by heart) and the lanky redheaded that seemed to be Penelope's height (he obviously wasn't wearing heels) just had to be Ron...


	52. Chapter 52

**replies to any inquiries:**

 _ **FairyRave and Phoenixx Rising** : i love your comments last chapter! honestly, i'm addressing you both because you both had similar enough comments. especially about Percy's flip flop thought processes that seemed out of the blue. technically, some of it you see in Chapter 28, when you see him drunkenly telling Molly how he felt during the war. you see it again in Chapter 40 when Ares tells him he is afraid of "embracing the darkness." it is just a bit more touched on here and more obvious, because Percy was trying to attempt to tap into those thoughts to explain how he feels in the grand scheme of things. it is something that will be mentioned more often. the reason it was mentioned sporadically because i wanted to give an idea that it was a very suppressed issue for Percy. i won't lie... i loved writing the reactions so much! and for Phoenixx Rising, smack on with the fact that he's the reason that Adrian is comatose! it is actually comical that they won't address this until 2-3 chapters later!_

* * *

Chapter Fifty-Two

* * *

 _"Ginny?"_ Percy called out, surprised. He wrapped his arms around her immediately and hugged her tightly.

"Percy?" Ginny echoed. She hugged him back, crushing him in the process. "You're back!"

He hadn't felt happy like this since he'd left the ward. It was like he'd just stepped off from a Hogwarts train and come back home. Percy buried his head into Ginny's hair. Merlin, she needed to give it a good wash... but perhaps, she shouldn't be using Marcus' hot bath water.

"Godric, you've been playing _Quidditch_ I suppose?" Percy pulled away from her, pulling his hand towards his nose where he was wiping away what, to Ginny, appeared to be non-existent dust particles.

However, to him, it was a thousand and one microscopic fungi starting to take refuge in his nose.

"I heard from the twins you went against multiple rules, Ministerial decrees and did not finish your Hogwarts' education. I also heard that Ron is planning on _not_ finishing his Hogwarts' education, similarly to the twins, and _less importantly,_ I heard that you were involved in taking down You-Know-Who," Percy finished in one final breath. "Congratulations on getting a deal cut with the Holyhead Harpies. Perhaps, one day, you might be able to teach me why a sport centred on two poorly constructed hoops, a bunch of beaten down broomsticks and a collection of dangerous balls could be so appealing."

Ginny only offered him a bright beam. "Percy?"

"Yes?" Percy raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up," Ginny said, still beaming over at him.

Percy's cheeks coloured in deeply, as he glanced over at Ron.

Ron had his arms crossed over his chest. Merlin, did he get tall! He was at least two or three inches taller than Percy, which made him feel quite self-conscious.

Percy wrapped his arms around Ron, whom refused to respond for about five seconds before he wrapped his arms around Percy's frame. Yet again, Percy found it difficult to breathe with how tight Ron was holding onto him, as if he was afraid to let go of Percy least he just disappeared.

"Blimey, is that what they make you wear in there?" Ron asked, staring at Percy's clothing with repulsion. "And I've heard from mum that there was something going on with Flint! Is he finally leaving the house because he has no business staying here?"

 _"Ron,"_ Arthur cut him off with a look that would've made Molly proud.

Percy raised an eyebrow. "No, I bought these two days ago," his cheeks were hot and red. "However, Marcus is in extremely poor condition. He is—... he _was_ dying of hypothermia."

"I told you that it was cold in here!" Ginny flicked a look in Ron's direction.

"No, he was _actually_ dying of hypothermia," Percy said in a very serious tone.

 _"I know!"_ Penelope looked extremely stressed. Wisps of golden hair fell into her eyes.

"How can someone die of _hypothermia_ in this weather? It's humid outside. Think my heart's boiled down to blood juice in Diagon Alley this morning," surprisingly, it was Ron that had been pointing out that it was a little odd for Marcus to have hypothermia in November... much less life-threatening hypothermia.

"Marcus was dying of hypothermia," Percy's voice was flat, "because of me."

At that moment, Molly had chosen to leave the bedroom. Marcus was groggily trudging behind her. She was carrying a load of warm, fuzzy clothes in her arms. He was rubbing his eyes as he followed her towards the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Oliver stood by the doorframe with a murderous look to his eyes... which made the curly-haired ginger wonder if Oliver would yet again attempt to scratch his eyes out within the next few minutes.

Higgs and Bletchley shared similar expression.

By the end of today, Percy would have to unearth some form of deep seated love for large wooden coffins with how disastrous his future seemed to be playing out.

"What did you say?" Arthur was staring at Percy with confused, large blue eyes.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. "I... I may have done something I am not particularly proud of, and it was _not_ on purpose but I am quite certain I'm the reason behind why Marcus was dying."

"Percy?" Molly squeaked out. Beside her, Marcus stayed quiet. "Percy, love, you didn't—"

"But I did! I... _I've_ done this!" Percy exclaimed, waving his arms around frantically. "I've fantasised about _this_. I've fantasised about pushing Marcus into the Great Lake for weeks now. I've fantasised about it so many times that it's probably turned into a memory—"

"Perce, you're not making much sense," Ginny cut him off. "I've fantasised about throwing Ron from top of the house after he stole my broom—but that doesn't mean that if someone throws him off, it's _my_ fault!"

 _"Ginny, you've forgotten about my epilepsy!_ It's supposedly a _gift_ from Athena to help me vanquish Ares, _"_ Percy reminded her. "It's a gift because essentially, it's not an illness. I am a walking body that is filled with _uncontrollable archaic magic_. I learned how to control _most_ of it, not all of it but enough that I do not have to convulse to be able to wield it. The only reason I kept on getting ill after my fits is due to the fact that I couldn't control any of my body's own magic, which is strong enough that it made me extremely ill afterwards. As I stated multiple times already, _I can't control all of it._ It is extremely difficult to and I suppose that I'm not supposed to be able to. I believe that that the part that I cannot control is part of the reason why my countless suicide attempts are always unsuccessful. My body does not want me to die regardless of what _I_ think and-and- _and_ it's probably the reason for why Marcus was dying because I kept on bloody fantasising about it and it's _not_ just a harmless fantasy. I..."

Percy shook his head, feeling ill. "I'm incredibly dangerous! I'm not even sure of what I'm capable of, but _this_ is entirely possible. Well, I've... I've subconsciously attempted to kill him via hypothermia!"

"What do you mean suicide _attempts_?" Molly seemed to zero in on the one thing that Percy mentioned in the passing that shouldn't even matter at all at the moment. She sounded angry. " _Percival Ignatius Weasley_ , what have you been doing to yourself when you've been staying with the twins?"

" _It'snotimportant_ ," Percy answered quickly, his throat aching. " _I'mamurderer_ but-but I didn't mean to..."

"Don't worry, Percy," Oliver said in a maniacal tone to his voice. "Godric knows we'll help kill you before you actually bloody murder someone!"

 _"OLIVER, TAKE THAT BACK!"_ Molly exclaimed, looking appalled by him.

Oliver grabbed Percy's shoulders and pushed him into the wall (yet again), glaring over at him. His look was so cold that it could've sent Marcus back into a hypothermic state. "I knew it," he hissed. "I bloody knew that there was something about you. And they're going to forgive you even if you don't ruddy well deserve it. You could probably become the next Dark Lord and nobody would care because it's _sweet little Percy_ —"

 _"OLIVER, STOP THAT THIS INSTANCE!"_ Molly exclaimed, grabbing Oliver by his shoulder herself and pushing him off Percy. He probably could've resisted her but chose not to. _"APOLOGISE TO HIM!"_

"No," Oliver's eyes were still locked to Percy's face. "You should know that I'm not blind to what you really are inside and _I_ don't think it's a bloody coincidence that you're the God of war's vessel!"

Oliver's jaw clenched, " _You're not human!_ You're—you're—you're—"

Percy stared over at Oliver, his heart pounding in his chest. "You're right," he whispered.

Maybe he was meant to wait for the silver-haired dark-eyed to come back. Maybe her promises weren't empty. Maybe they needed time. Maybe he was meant to dissolve into the bleakness as he stood waiting by the lamppost all alone. Maybe he should just succumb. Maybe this mask would crumble. Maybe he was too young to know. _Maybe it just wasn't meant to be like this_ —

" _NO!_ He's not!" Molly said, letting go of Oliver to walk towards Percy. She placed a hand on his chin and pulled it up, staring at him with a softened expression. "Percy, don't listen to him."

Percy simply looked back at her with a look of defeat. "Mum, he's right."

 _"PERCIVAL, DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT YOURESLF LIKE THAT!"_ Molly was very vehement about where she stood. Percy could see himself walking away, searching for that silver-haired woman with her even more silver tongue. He wanted to bloody run at the confrontation. "Do you understand?"

He slowly nodded his head, but was succumbing to his own self-hatred.

"It's been a long day," Molly said, placing a hand against his cheek. "We'll talk about this later. Do you understand? You need to lie down and rest."

Percy could only very weakly nod his head.

PENELOPE would be lying if she said that she felt angry towards Percy's confession—that he'd subconsciously pulled Marcus into a hypothermic state as a result of his disturbing and questionable fantasies. She would be lying if she said that she wanted to tear his face off for harming her husband (hadn't she done worse to him? Why did Marcus forgive her?). She... only felt sad. She couldn't blame Percy. _He had been locked off into a ward for six years with no proper human contact_. How could she hate him for feeling contempt? How could she hate him for being human?

( _And a part of her probably still loved him, no matter how small it was. She could never fully hate him._ He was the first boy she ever wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She was _so sure_ that she'd get him to see through her bright spectrespecs one of these days, to make everything that he was so blind to before... _clear, vivid—real_. Just like she failed at finding wrackspurts, she failed at letting him see through her eyes. He had not even tripped, much less fallen for her. Thus, Penelope was just stood there with funny-looking glasses on her face as she waited. She had never believed that she could love another human being with the same intensity—and then Marcus was away and this gaping hole was in her chest. She missed him constantly. She missed him in the morning. She missed him in the afternoon. She missed him at night. She loved him in a way that made her challenge the way that she saw the universe... and that scared her more than she wanted to admit.)

Speaking of Marcus... she stared down at him, hands trembling. Sat in the hot bath, Marcus looked peaceful.

Marcus had yet to see Avis since she'd brought her over. Just the thought of her daughter catching sight of her own father in such a state left Penelope feeling woozy.

As Penelope stared at him, she thought of the months that had passed. She thought of all the muggle video tapes that she took of Avis as she started to walk. She'd been so eager to show him, so eager to take him back home so that they could fall into that beautiful, synchronised pattern that they'd been in before. She thought that she had unearthed the true secret to eternal happiness. She thought that they were going to be together forever now. She thought that she was supposed to die before him. Part-trolls had _amazing_ life spans. She thought that _he was the one that would bury her_.

Just hours ago, she was getting ready to bury him.

Two months ago, she slipped on a puddle of melted dark chocolate. She cried. She couldn't stop crying for hours because she could see him tearing off those wrappers and letting the frog fly away from his fingers.

It took Penelope _so long_ to come to terms with the fact that she loved him, that she was in love with him. Every molecule of his being wanted him even if her mind was resistant at the idea for the longest time... and today, she reclaimed him and nearly _lost him_. To _hypothermia_. Smack in the middle of _November_.

"Clearwater," he looked content when he saw her. Marcus leaned his head back, smiling weakly. He seemed to be able to form coherent thoughts. A few hours ago, he'd been staring at her with vacant eyes, completely unaware of what was happening to him. "I lie so bloody much—I don't even know when I'm saying the ruddy truth anymore... Godric, you'd have a field day with me with a phial of veritaserum on ya."

Penelope reached to put his hand on his face. She stroked his cheek lovingly. "It's okay."

She noticed the fleeting expression on his face.

"Marcus?" she called out, the way his name rolled off her tongue was effortless.

"I was—... bloody hungry I was," Marcus suddenly said. "Mum hadn't made anything for dinner again."

Penelope's heart practically stopped in her chest. He was telling her a _story?_ Marcus, he whom would not tell what kind of potato he preferred for dinner? Marcus, he whom refused to even let her know anything about his Gringott's account! Marcus, he whom refused to even let her measure his robe size so that he could stop wearing these bloody duvet-sized robes of his sisters!

"There wasn't bollocks in the fridge," Marcus continued, shaking his head. "She put up wards round the house, because she wasn't sure if it was safe even though the ruddy war's ended. Well, I did have a habit of walking round our backyard in my skivvies, smacking things with my toy broomstick. Maybe that was it. The neighbours got tired of seeing me in my underpants. I was six. Apparition was... out of the question, not unless I wanted to get me spleen spliced. She told me I needed to lose a few stones... so I bloody threw stones at her and told her that I lost them. Now, she should feed me potatoes. She was so pissed that she threatened to disown me quite a bit. She said she couldn't find me any ruddy robes anymore. She'd have to look for bed sheets and curtains next to clothe me if I kept on eating so ruddy much."

Penelope swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt ill.

"I was ravenous. Could've chewed through the couch if the house-elves would've let me," Marcus smiled into her touch. His skin was stiffer than his coffin would've been. His chest barely expanded as he breathed.

"I snuck into her room when she was having a kip—Godric, she had at least six bloody kips a day for no reason. All she did was sit on her arse all day—and I..."Marcus' lips twitched. _"I ate mum's wedding ring."_

Penelope's heart sunken. _He looked so apologetic._

"She bloody butchered me she did," Marcus laughed. His laugh was emptier than her Gringott's account. "My father didn't know. The only person in this world that knows besides you is Maya. She... had to clean up the bloody mess, you know—and it was properly bloody. I told her I ran through the door first time round and she asked me if the door happened to be a fully trained Auror."

Penelope's eyes were blurring with tears. She just placed her hand against his shoulder, staring over at his frame. Godric, it felt like every time she looked at him, there was somehow _less and less_ of him all the time. She'd seen air heavier than he was.

"She said that she'd made me regret it," Marcus' voice was rising, wobbly. "Godric, I was _six_. I was starving and—to me, _it was just a rock!_ A ruddy ugly one at that!"

"It's okay," Penelope ran her hand through his thick black hair— _but it wasn't_. She just wanted to tear Viola's skin off. She loathed that woman the first time she'd laid her eyes on her. She'd loathed her even more when she came back with expensive robes, whilst her ten children rotated the same twenty robes between them. Marcus' robes always smelled like Marisol's lavender perfume or Maya's strawberry pie. "It's okay."

She could feel tears slide down her eyes. She was doing a poor job of convincing him that this was alright.

Marcus looked up at Penelope with an even softer expression. She didn't know any possible. Any softer, and he might melt into the water.

She watched him stand up and dry himself off. Penelope laughed when he tried to dry his thick, black hair. He looked like he might've damaged his neurons with how aggressively he was rubbing the towel into his hair. She was surprised that his hair hadn't been torn off his head in the process.

Penelope watched him put on his underpants, followed by Oliver's fuzzy pyjamas.

"Fifth year," Marcus said, starting to button up the sky blue pyjama top. Even these fit him better than his sister's robes; most of them were significantly bigger than Oliver. "I didn't cheat."

"What?" Penelope was surprised to hear this. "What do you mean—?"

Marcus shook his head, finally getting to the top button. He ran his hand through his wet but not dripping hair. He opened his mouth to speak, but then his cheeks coloured in. He didn't say anything for a few moments, obviously trying to find the words to convey his feelings. "Merlin, how in Godric's name am I supposed to say this without sounding like an absolute dunce?"

Penelope sighed in exasperation. _"Marcus!"_

He only smirked. "I can't see properly. I need glasses. Merlin, I'm practically blind without those sodding things," Marcus shook his head. "I do own a pair, Clearwater, but I don't wear them because they look bloody awful they do."

 _"Flint,"_ Penelope corrected him, crossing her arms over her chest. Suddenly, thick vibrant memories of Marcus misspelling his own name on his own assignments came to mind. His wiggly, unsteady handwriting filled her mind. The way some letters seemed to loop into one another, and how some were completely unwritten, or written more than twice or thrice. "Marcus, were you really meant to be put into Slytherin?"

"Not that bloody question! No, I practically begged the sodding thing to put me into Slytherin! The stupid old thing wanted to put me into _Hufflepuff!_ If I was in Hufflepuff, my mum would've thrown me out of the house!" Marcus exclaimed hotly, his cheeks colouring in deeply. _"What's so bloody Hufflepuff like about me?"_

Penelope couldn't stop laughing. She could imagine eleven-year-old Marcus in his bright yellow-and-black scarves, having his arms crossed over his chest as a horde of energetic first year Hufflepuffs talked to him about anything and everything under the sun. Meanwhile, Marcus would threaten to give them a proper scaphoid fracture if they didn't stop bloody talking. The thought warmed her heart.

"There _is_ the fact that whenever one of your mates tend to put you into a life-threatening situation, you tend to forgive them almost immediately regardless of the fact that one day, they might actually lead to your imminent death," Penelope replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. Marcus only shot her a look before rolling his eyes but she only weakly smiled. "Marcus, what Percy did... he—"

"You're not going to tell me that I shouldn't forgive the bastard, are you?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. He was leaning against the bathroom counter, his hands on his thighs.

Penelope's cheeks coloured in. She was ashamed to say that she was going to tell him that Percy hadn't meant to do this. He was a cavern of volatile, uncontainable magic and he'd been in a ward that had obviously done him in. She could barely see her Percy in those vacant blue eyes and that tepid smile. He was so uncertain of himself. He looked... _incomplete_ , as if he had left something that was vitally _Percy_ back in the ward. She could feel it. From the moment that she saw him, she knew that he was not himself. She yearned to reach out to somehow fill in the gap where the rest of him once was. Penelope hated that she couldn't hate him for what he did. She couldn't even _blame_ him for what he did.

Marcus' smile disappeared. _He knew_ , Penelope thought to herself.

"When I came back to Hogwarts, I thought that maybe I could show them that I wasn't so ruddy thick," Marcus continued the second story. "I used to sleep in the day and stay up during the night, under the covers, with those bloody glasses on. I read the books, and I did my useless, dreadful assignments. The bastards kept on thinking I was cheating! The lot of them. I just bloody gave up! What else could I do? They were convinced that I was thicker than one of my mum's tortes!"

Penelope stared at him, seeing right through his translucent eyes.

Marcus cocked his head to one side. "You love the weasel. Holly Heywood told me," she wanted to curse Holly for mentioning it to Marcus, but why on Earth would she mention this to Marcus at all?

"Yes," Penelope admitted cheeks red. "Did you ever figure out why Holly even bothered to tell you this?"

Marcus snorted. "That lass is absolutely smitten with me. She's wanted to go out with me ever since I started throwing rocks at _you_. Thought it was a 'very primitive but romantic' gesture."

Somehow, this shocked Penelope greatly. She did not expect this. She'd known Holly for years. She had mentioned to Penelope before that she was besotted with a bloke from Slytherin. She had even gone so far as to mention that he had dark hair, light eyes and a slight built. Penelope had always assumed that she'd been talking about Peregrine Derrick—an extremely lanky, dark-haired Beater with light green eyes. Every girl in Ravenclaw seemed to find him charming, albeit most blokes did not feel the same way about him. She could remember Holly at the hospital, quick to defend him: _"Marcus? Don't talk about him like that."_

Penelope had been jealous of Holly ever since she was eleven.

Holly was exceedingly attractive and intelligent. She could get any bloke she wanted with a flick of her hair, and wrote all her assignments in less than half an hour. Holly was engaged to one of the Weird Sisters band members, and he— _wrote a song about her!_ Every woman in the wizarding world was jealous of her and Holly? She had this lad's affection in the palm of her hand and yet, she was staring goggly-eyed over at _Marcus Flint_.

"Marcus?" Penelope called out in a whisper, moving closer to him. She felt the coldness between them just disappear. The closer she was to him, the more she could see what Holly desperately wanted.

Marcus cocked his head. "Hmm?"

She smiled weakly, placing a hand on his cheek. "What day in February?"

She saw him smile in a way that left her heart full. "The eighteenth."

 _"GODRIC, YOU TWO HAVE BEEN IN THERE FOR AGES!"_ one of the twins sounded out from outside the bathroom. Penelope was flushing deeply and Marcus simply looked pleased. _"NO WONDER FLINT'S FAMILY IS SO BIG! The minute that you two are left alone, you try to bloody procreate!"_

"Marcus?" Penelope noticed him starting to unbutton his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Well, they already think we're shagging," Marcus shrugged and then smirked, sliding his pyjama top off.

PERCY ran his hand through the small tuft of vibrant red curls at the top of his head as he stared over at himself in the mirror in his room—err, _shed_. He rubbed a small dollop of Madame Primpernelle's gel and then slicked his hair back, trying to tame it as much as he could. Unfortunately, attempting to reel the twins in was a much easier feat than attempting to calm down these livid locks! This would be so much easier if he had his wand with him but he was _still_ not allowed to have a wand on the basis that he was bollocks at attempting not to harm himself.

Percy honestly did not know why Audrey bothered. If he wanted to harm himself, he would find a way to harm himself sans wand. And now, he would have to live with the fact that if he did somehow manage to kill himself in the next hour or so, he would die with truly awful hair.

 _PERCY! You take that back RIGHT NOW!_ Percy could practically hear his mother say. _THIS IS NO_ _LAUGHING MATTER!_

Somehow, the thought brought a smile to his face and he found himself laughing. Truly laughing. For the first time in so long that he'd felt a warm tingling running down his spine.

 _WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT LAUGHING?_ He could hear his mother reply, and he laughed harder.

He placed his hands into the pockets of his pants. His pockets were made for a very small child's hand—or George's hands, whom suspiciously had smaller hands than Fred. Visibly so. At least, it was to Percy.

In what way were those two identical again? They didn't even have the same handwriting!

As Percy caught a look at his (lack of) padding, he smiled as he recalled the great padded arse failure when he was fourteen. He'd stuffed his underpants like women stuffed their bras. Needless to say, he'd left a trail of toilet paper whenever he went because his underpants were too large on him. (Penelope asked Percy if by any chance, they shared undergarments as well. Percy did not comment on this because Penelope should remember that Percy had _sterilised quills_ —of course he would not wear someone else's underpants... not unless he incinerated it first! He did realise later on that she asked this question because Bill _did_ have an arse and she supposed that if he was wearing Bill's underpants, the toilet paper film would slip out quite easily considering Percy didn't have much arse holding the paper in place. Marvellous, wasn't it?)

Percy's heart had done a flip when the door to the shed was cracked wide open (very noisily, Percy might add. He nearly had a coronary!) and a tall figure emerged from the doorway.

Percy's heart nearly stopped in his chest. _Arthur_. Percy actually did want to have a coronary.

"I remember when you were a little nipper," Arthur said, making Percy's shoulders tense up. "Our safe house had a fireplace in your room and you used to be cross about it. Members of the Order kept on wafting in late at night and they kept on irritating you. You were insisting they use the other fireplace, the big dusty one that was filled with so many noxious fumes that you don't even find spiders making cobwebs anywhere near it. You kept on throwing your fists up, bloody angry you were. Your mum said she tried to feed you apples for pudding one day and you were so cross with her that you've locked yourself up with the room and fell asleep. You managed to display your first real ability to do magic. Do you remember that?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "I believe I had lit up the fireplace, and you happened to emerge out of it in a similar instance. I had essentially flambéed you."

Arthur smiled weakly as he recalled this. "I still have a burn mark on my bum from that."

"That was the unattainable knowledge that I was truly missing in my life," said Percy, whom had raised his eyebrow at the fact that his father even bothered mentioning this memory. "Thank you, father."

Arthur's ears coloured in deeply. "Your mum and I spent all night trying to calm you down and then Fabian and Gideon managed to go up to you and calm you down in seconds. You were back to your happy self—and yes, there was a time, Percival, where you were just like the rest; a happy, optimistic child. At that time, I always did wonder what they'd said to you. Do you remember what they said?"

Percy stared vacantly over at his father. "I remember everything," he remembered the war even more vividly than nine-year-old Charlie or eleven-year-old Bill, both of whom were simply annoyed that they couldn't play as much Quidditch as he wanted. "I believe that they told me that I wouldn't want to be the reason Father Christmas was coughing up coal all night. If I also recall correctly, that Christmas, you managed to give me a toy broomstick that was very quickly confiscated by Bill and Charlie. I remember practically begging for you to get it back for me but you hadn't even bothered to do that for me."

Arthur flinched and then moved closer to Percy. He placed a hand on Percy's shoulder, but the ginger turned away and stared at him with a cold expression.

"I was trying to... make this situation less dense by bringing up a memory I thought you might find amusing," Arthur said, attempting to be as stiff as Percy but failing dramatically. "Percy, I'm sorry."

Percy stared at him with a vacant expression. His heart was racing and he had started to sweat.

"I know that things have been... difficult between us," Arthur said. "But I just had to say..."

Difficult had to be a big understatement. He moved closer to Percy and Percy shifted away, pinning himself to the wall. He was surprised that he wasn't breathing heavily because he was starting to feel very sticky and faint. His dodgy leg felt heavier than usual. It pulsed with pain and tried to pull him to the ground.

"...that I didn't purposely put you into the ward. I was under the Imperius! By _Ares!_ What a dastardly God," Arthur's eyes were filled with anger and contempt. "Percival?"

Percy was starting to see black spots form into his vision. Suddenly, he began to question when was the last time he had something to eat.

"Please leave me alone," Percy said in a soft voice. "I am not particularly in the best mindset to be discussing such things with you and I do not want to remember that you've left me in the... the—"

"The ward?" Arthur called out.

Percy closed his eyes, trying to ignore the assaults of memories where he'd screamed so loudly his throat would hurt for days, the days where he'd had his bones cracked, or his dinner stolen by rats. He could feel something fuzzy lying underneath his skin, and wispy long legs rubbing against his neck. He slept with his mouth open on more than one occasion and had accidentally choked down a very large tarantula. He could remember trying to push it out, and her long, hairy legs pressed up against his chin. The nurse that had seen to him that day had grabbed him by his collar and shoved the thing down twenty-year-old Percy's mouth.

The memory was _so vivid_. Percy didn't even know that he'd shoved his fingers into his own throat to try and push out a non-existent spider until Arthur pulled his hand away from his mouth.

Percy swallowed, tasting watery blood. His throat was scratchy.

 _Humiliation!_ Percy couldn't remember the last time he felt this humiliated in his whole life. His father had just caught him attempting to shove a non-existent spider out of his mouth! He knew he had questionable sanity but never in his life did he think that he would come to the point where he was imagining non-existent things in front of his own father! He was so ashamed of himself. Merlin, they all thought he was nutters, but did he really have to _amplify it?_ His cheeks coloured in and his eyes stung with tears. _And now, he was crying?_ Godric.

"Percy... what in Godric's name were you doing?" Arthur suddenly called out. He looked terrified. Great. Now, not only was he bonkers, but his own father was afraid of him.

Percy opened his mouth to explain but closed it back up. What could he say? _I was trying to pull out an imaginary spider but instead, ended up tearing my throat with my fingers?_

"Well, if you don't want to talk to me then..." was all that Arthur would say as he placed a hand on Percy's shoulder, squeezing it. Was this supposed to console him? "Alright. I... I suppose."

Percy waited until his father left before he crumbled to the ground and started to sob. He wrapped his arms around himself, staring at the wall vacantly with weary red-rimmed eyes. He could not breathe. A sudden smile started to form on his face when he noticed that Arthur had accidentally dropped his wand in the shed.


	53. Chapter 53

_**comments to any inquiries on last chapter:**_

 _ **FairyRave** **:** i love that Marcus and Penelope ended up together, though that was not the initial plan. i was pretty sure this was supposed to end up slash-y but the whole fanfic didn't like that direction that that was taking. as for Percy and the wand... you'll see! i'm also glad that things are starting to make more sense from how Percy's epilepsy works._

* * *

Chapter Fifty-Three

* * *

Miles had always been extremely interested in finding out the truth behind a couple of mysterious mysteries of his chosen interest. He did realise that using the term 'mysterious mysteries' sounded a bit off, and that he was probably a bit of a plonker. No matter! He continued to insist that he would one day find the cure for dragon pox. Yes, he knew that there _was_ indeed a cure for dragon pox, but still— _a better one,_ because he had had people in his family die of dragon pox even when they've had the cure because the cure did not have a one hundred percent success rate. In fact, if not for the fact that mum insisted that he needed to consume stewed blueberries on toast in the morning for the past ten years, he bet that his brain cells would _still_ be working and today—and thus, he would've achieved all his life's ambitions. Unfortunately, upon the first day that he'd chomped into his berry-based breakfast toast, his brain cells just froze, curled up and died because they wanted to spare Miles. They wanted to kill off any nervous system innervation to his taste receptors, because he did not do anything to warrant this pain.

Still, some of his neurons were still intact. And they helped him solve a number of 'mysterious mysteries.'

Some of these mysteries included: who ate the last chocolate frog in 1989 (Miles realised that this crime was not very important to solve because he happened to be the culprit), who was the tosser that put blackberry jelly in his boots when he was asleep, and why the hell did his mum insist on taking a perfectly good piece of fish and then mould it using a box of gelatine, cottage cheese and artificial sweeteners?

In 1992, he tried to find out what size his mum's knockers were. He stole one of her bras and tried to measure one of the cups with a tape, and it was ruddy big enough to fit Marcus' big fat head in it.

This was confirmed later in his sixth year when he'd managed to spello-tape the thing to Marcus' head.

Now, on this crisp November day in 1998, he was attempting to find out what colour the Weasley family couch was. Miles deduced it to be a soft periwinkle colour. Molly admitted that it _used_ to be an off-white colour. Miles yet again deduced that they were the same thing and yet again, he was right. In fact, he was _always_ right and should never be questioned—especially when it came to bets on Quidditch games. His opinion was fact and he should be swamped with _Daily Prophet_ reporters on the clock, asking him exactly how the weather would be like tomorrow (did _The Daily Prophet_ cover weather? He'd never bothered reading one of those blasted things because, as stated previously, _he knew everything_.)

"Are you comfortable?" Miles looked up to see Molly standing in front of him. Her hair was in complete disarray and she was holding a cup of what seemed to be tea.

"Very," Miles couldn't feel his arse and there were pins sticking up his bum. "I could live on this couch."

"Percy wouldn't recommend doing that," Molly said, her voice hollow and vacant as she put the tea cup beside him and gestured for him to have a sip. She collapsed onto the loveseat just beside him, offering a weak smile. "Percy said he isn't sure what else lives in that couch, but he did once extract a whole bunch of horklumps from under there. He was able to harvest forty different species in one extraction. He spello-taped them to a notebook and showed them to me when I was making dinner that night. Needless to say, I accidentally tossed one of the bags in when I was putting mushrooms in my variation of a steak and kidney pie. Godric, I've never seen anyone get so sick so quick. The family refused all my pies for a month after!"

"Don't tell my mother about these horklumps, ma'am," Miles took a sip of the tea. He hadn't had a cup of tea for ages that did not have cobwebs growing around the rim. "She'll try to gelatinise them."

Molly smiled a proper smile and placed a hand on his own.

She looked like she was studying him. He didn't know if she was enamoured with his dashing good looks ( _likely_ ) or repulsed by the amount of scar and burn tissue scattering about his face ( _unlikely_ ), as her eldest son, Bill, had tram tracks for scar, Charlie was _extra crispy_ , Percy looked like a mentally disturbed bloke that just came back from a Death Eater's 'mudblood' concentration camp, one of the twins had his ear blasted off and Ron and Ginny probably were more mucked up than the rest of them because they did help Harry Potter defeat You-Know-Who. They'd both probably seen enough blood, tears and torture to last a lifetime.

"There was this little bloke that Percy brought over with him once for Christmas," Molly suddenly decided to mention. That was when Miles realised that she hadn't been examining him at all. She'd been lost in thought and happened to be looking straight at his face. "Adrian... _something_... oh, it's been so long. He looked like a little... oh, never mind how he looked like... how is he doing?"

"He's in a coma. I saw him a while ago," Miles smiled weakly. "Bastard's put on weight. He's got a belly and all. It really suits him and makes him look less like..."

For Salazar's sake, Snape was _dead_. How could he be dead?

Molly nodded her head and said nothing.

"When Marcus and I were young, we used to be real bastards," Miles put the cup of tea down and offered a bright smile as a slew of warm memories danced in front of his eyes. "We still are, mind you, Mrs Weasley, but we used to sit around and tell each other what we hated the most about our mates. Marcus said that he used to hate Adrian so ruddy much because his hair was so... _black_."

She seemed confused by this. "But Marcus' hair is black!"

"Aye, but not like Adrian's!" Miles chuckled. "Marcus used to say that he hated the amount of time that Adrian spent fixing up his _blacker-than-black_ hair. You see, Adrian used to make it cascade down like a waterfall; a homage to the fact that he's the biggest tosser in the world."

Molly could remember this. "Yes, it is a bit disconcerting how... _fluid_ his hair was. I thought that it was fake first time I've seen it. It was as soft as silk from that one time I've patted the bloke's head."

"I know. Bet you can market it for quite a few Galleons," Miles agreed. "Godric, just because of that hair, Marcus was _so_ sure that Adrian was bent. Actually, Marcus was sure he himself was bent until he actually kissed a bloke. Pity. If he actually was, then Wood could stop pretending that he isn't interested in forming relationships because he's too much of a Quidditch-addled maniac—"

Molly's face contorted in surprise. "Oliver likes blokes?"

"No, he doesn't like blokes. He likes _a bloke_. His eyes are so fixed towards Flint it's like no other lad in the universe exists. Flint might as well be a Quaffle and everyone else is just a Bludger trying to get in the way of the lad," Miles offered a beam. " _Adrian_ , however, oh—he was so enticed by women he used to sneak into the girls' dormitories. Marcus used to say that Adrian would never find a lass that likes him because he would spend too much bloody time making his hair all waterfall-like. I happen to wholeheartedly agree."

She shook her head. "And what about your other friends? Did you pick on them or was it just Adrian?"

"Well... there was Terence," Miles' eyebrows were knitted together. " _Oh!_ When we were younger, Terence's hair was so ruddy short, and he used to always trim the Merlin-forsaken thing. I used to say that I'd hope that the next time he asked a house elf to trim that hair of his, that the thing would just chop off his head because there would be no hair left to trim. Marcus didn't seem to mind his hair so much. He kept on thinking about his ears. He said with ears as big as Terence's, he wouldn't need a broom to fly. The little lad was insistent on the fact that if he had Terence's ears, he'd try to cover it up with as much hair as possible."

"Oh dear," Molly shook her head. "You aren't exactly the nicest lads, are you?"

Miles laughed and offered another beam. "Aye. When we were discussing the lads, Marcus had no problem telling me that he bloody loathes me just because I'm myself. I don't mind because it's the same reason why everyone tends to hate me. It's the accent I presume. Oh, and _Percy_..."

Molly seemed to perk up. "Yes?" she then sighed. "I hope you're not going to tell me what you hate—"

"Your son is a very interesting character," Miles' mind was assaulted by a thousand memories that were so vibrant that they could've blinded him. Because being half-toasted wasn't enough! He had to be blind as well! "We used to take the mickey out of him. You know, he always had his head stuck in a book even though he's memorised the whole curriculum within two days of coming to Hogwarts—"

"He's hardworking!" Molly defended him. "It does good to be like—"

"And his glasses... _Merlin!"_ Miles couldn't stop himself from being the biggest wally in the planet. "Mrs Weasley, I don't know what you were thinking but they're bigger than Terence's ears! And Terence's ears are bigger than house-elf ears—"

"Miles," Molly's voice was steady and calm. "If you continue the conversation down this route, this very hot tea is going to end up somewhere you wouldn't want it to be."

Miles wanted to say that he only had partial feeling in that area, but he didn't want to challenge her.

"Do you have anything to say about him that is not just a jibe at the fact that maybe he's a bit more studious or stiffer than most children tend to be at that age?" Molly asked calmly, raising an eyebrow. She looked like she was this close to beating him up if he insulted Percy again.

Miles swallowed the lump in his throat. "There is one thing... but it's terribly depressing."

 _"Tell me,"_ Molly demanded.

"But it's really... something," Miles said in a weak voice. His voice had gone down a few octaves.

Molly stared at Miles with a determined expression. "He's my son," she said. "I have a right to know."

"You do," was all he replied with.

A fleeting silence encompassed between them. Miles bet the 'hot tea' that she was threatening to splash him with had turned into ice. Time seemed to pass by so slowly. Every minute felt like an hour and yet, every minute felt like a second. Time was slow and it was quick...

And then Miles said his bit.

"The thing is no matter how colourful our insults were, your son could probably come up with a thousand more colourful ones about himself... he probably hated himself more than he hated anything else in the world," Miles chuckled, even though his tone was serious.

Molly slowly nodded her head. "I know," she said in a low voice.

"We..." Miles stopped himself, trying to find the proper words to express what he had to say. "We managed to unlock his diary once or twice, when we were in our fourth years. Pushing aside the fact that we needed a dictionary to decipher what he was trying to say, he wasn't actually painting the prettiest picture. Reading it was absolutely terrible. Merlin, it was downright disturbing actually."

Molly was shifting uncomfortably in her spot. "I know that I'm intruding into my son's personal space and this is wrong on so many levels but..." she was whispering, "Do you remember what he'd written?"

"Hard to forget, ma'am," Miles said sternly. "He kept on saying bollocks about how if they'd sewed different parts of his family together, they wouldn't be able to build anything like him."

"That's not true!" Molly shook her head. "He looks very much like Arthur now that I think about it."

Miles bit back his tongue. He didn't think that that was exactly what Percy was looking for.

"He kept on mentioning rubbish about how he thought that his father didn't make him feel like he was worth much, about how every year he wishes he could just barricade himself in his own room so he wouldn't have to go down to King's Cross station with everyone else. He said that just coming home made him lose his appetite and his will to live completely, that he'd rather just fade away into nothingness when he's in the house because he thinks that he mustn't even bother, that you've got six others that fit perfectly and he just... didn't," Miles rambled on. He felt like he was missing so much of what he'd read before. "Oh, Godric, and the way he used to take the piss out of his body? You'd think he was proper appalling. He went on about how lanky and freckly he was, and kept on mentioning all this absolute nonsense about his nonexistent stretch marks from growing tall too quick. With the way the lad talks about himself, it's like he should apologise for whenever anyone's ever looked over at him. Like his bloody existence is so traumatising that he has to apologise for it. He was acting like the only reason he's alive is so he could give you lot visceral organs if you ever lose any! Merlin, he's so depressing. He counted the number of minutes he and his father spent talking to him for three months. It totalled up to four hours apparently, three and a half of which is him describing some muggle gadget or telling him to walk more. The other half was him ranting about the man, telling him that he'd met house elves with more class than your husband—"

" _Milespleasestop_ ," Molly said, her voice low. " _Please_."

Miles nodded his head, shifting into his couch. "Alright, ma'am," he said. "I'm sorry I even brought it up."

"It's fine. I told you to," was all she replied with before she stood up and disappeared into the kitchen.

Listening to the clock tick away, Miles found himself lost in his own thoughts. He had just realised that the rubbish he'd learned about Percy from the diary was all _before the ward_. What was spinning in her head now about the little lad? It was no surprise to Miles that Percy tried to snuff it in any chance he got.

Godric knew what he'd write in his diary nowadays if he had the chance to. From what Miles heard from Audrey ranting to Fred and George about the bloke, he was almost certain that if he made _this_ mentally unstable Percy write out his thoughts, he'd cut himself to ribbons and then use his blood to ink his melancholic thoughts out onto the parchment paper.

AUDREY should not be eavesdropping on Arthur and Molly's conversations.

She was _not_ supposed to know that Molly's new lingerie did not quite fit her as well as she hoped. She was _not_ supposed to know that Molly was worried about that rash that Bill refused to tend to (Audrey tried to bite back her natural response towards such situations: ' _I can have a look at it! It's my job, you know!_ ').

She was definitely _not_ supposed to know about the strange places that Arthur Weasley broke out in either.

Instead, she was supposed to be putting on this frock that Molly had spent a week knitting for her to _'truly welcome you into the family'_. She was supposed to be attempting _not_ to scratch her skin off when she'd finally put it on. Most importantly (and the reason for why she hadn't left the lavatory yet), she was supposed to look _nice_ in Molly's handmade knitted frock... instead, she looked like an oversized, chubby banana with extra filling, watermelon knockers and a peachy arse.

She poked at her stomach, sighing in exasperation. She would not be able to blame this on the pregnancy yet, given that this was her first month of pregnancy. She would, however, be able to blame it on the rather large carton of peppermint bourbon biscuit ice-cream that she'd insisted on demolishing right after dinner.

Audrey walked out of the lavatory, trying to make herself seem shorter than normal to avoid anyone noticing that she was wearing this— _this travesty._

It was _almost_ as bad as Percy's pinstriped trousers and pale button-downs!

She was standing there, muttering to herself. Audrey was speculating if she really needed to have three servings of pud every night. She was in a rather nice mood that day.

At least, she _was_ in a grand mood before she heard Arthur say, _"I think I've forgotten my wand over at the shed."_

Audrey didn't know her blood could boil this quickly. She curled her hands into fists, and then stormed out of the room, stomping toward Arthur. Suddenly, her worries of having nice, mottled red splotches from this frock seemed to disappear from her mind. She was too busy attempting not to hex Percy's father.

Audrey did not care if Arthur would hate her for the rest of eternity if she said what she had to say, but her tongue was hot and the words were rustling about in her mind— _plonker, plonker, plonker!_

How _dare_ he forget his wand over in the shed?! Did he _want_ Percy to do himself in? Why not just throw in a thing of firewhiskey to an alcoholic in their own room and see how they handle themselves? Probably better than a traumatised, self-destructive Percy being given any means to harm himself with! Godric... if Percy really did do himself in, she wasn't even blaming the lad! How could she?!

He wasn't ready for this... _he wasn't bloody ready for this!_

Three days ago, she was sitting down and trying to attempt to tend to his self-infliction. Percy now scraped off his skin with his fingers. Apparently, cutting his nails didn't do anything because he'd just started to use his teeth... this certainly was _not_ someone that should have a wand anywhere near them!

"What do you mean you've forgotten your wand over at the shed?" Audrey called out in a high, incredulous voice. She was staring at Arthur with a suddenly lowered respect for the man. Yes, it was _that_ serious! She was preparing to see Percy parts when she'd go to the shed now. "I tell Molly not to put proper spoons when she's giving him a tray of his breakfast because I'm afraid he'd gauge his eyes out! I've seen him do things to the blunt end of a quill and parchment paper that I didn't think was possible! Even with absolutely nothing to harm himself with, he'll start using walls, or his teeth or and his own hands and you're telling me that you left _your wand_ over there?! How long ago was _this_? How many pieces did he manage to cut himself down to? Should I even expect him to resemble a human being when I go down there right now?"

Molly had paled significantly. She looked back at Arthur with a soft look to her sad eyes. "I didn't even know you'd gone to see him..."

Needless to say, a trip to the shed was the first thing on Audrey's mind. She turned and stormed off, leaving the Burrow. Her heart was pounding and she could only imagine what foul thing Percy managed to do to himself with a charmed stick of wood!

Audrey's stomach was twisting, and she tried not to blow up on Arthur again as he and Molly followed her towards the shed.

 _"I didn't know!"_ Arthur said, looking alarmed.

Audrey stared at Arthur with a look of disbelief. "It doesn't take a bloke with all twelve O.W.L's to know that Percy's mentality is extremely questionable. You only need to stay with him for about three seconds to figure that one out! You can't tell me that he hasn't done anything that might make you think he's not all there when you went to talk to him now, did you?"

"I told you that he might not be able to handle you, love," Molly was definitely on Audrey's side.

Arthur shook his head. "I know you've told me not to talk to him, but he seemed perfectly fine when I stumbled upon him by accident in the hallway. Very much like his old self! Except for..."

"Except for _what_?" Audrey's voice was high with fury. Her hands were balled into fists.

Arthur was so red he looked somewhat comical. Under any other circumstances, Audrey would've lightened up at this, but instead, this just made her more furious. "Except for the minor detail that he'd tried to scratch his mouth out for no reason. Oh, and he did seem a tad upset when I left... though I'm not sure why."

Audrey was staring at Arthur, still dumbfounded. " _You left him when he was upset?_ And you left your _wand_ behind too? Godric, you really are trying to help him snuff it in, aren't you?"

 _"What?"_ Arthur said, surprise evident on his features. "I've heard he wasn't in the best frame of mind and that he might not be fully mentally... there... but _not_ that he was trying to end his own life! Surely, if I'd known that, I would've been more cautious!"

"What good is it _NOW?!_ " Audrey asked acerbically before she pushed the door open.

Audrey had expected to find many things, but not _this_.

She found Percy curled up against his long bed, head buried into a crocheted pillow. There were definitely tear streaks evident on his pallid cheeks. He was clinging so tightly onto the pillow, the thing might've suffocated. Percy's hair, gelled back as of recent, was back to its usual flat and uninspired state that Audrey had seen when they first met. He'd probably only recently properly fell asleep from the looks of things.

Arthur's wand was on the other side of the room, snapped beyond repair.

Audrey collapsed beside him, tucking a loose strand of dull red hair behind his ear.

"Oh, Percy," she crouched down to his eyelevel, turning to pull blankets over his frame. "Why are you such a self-destructive prat?"

She wouldn't have blamed him if he'd done something with the blasted hunk of magical wood, but he'd... done _nothing_ , except 'fix' his hair like he'd insisted he needed to do for months now.

 _He'd done nothing_ , and a big part of Audrey was beaming with pride. The other one felt absolutely dreadful. How _hard_ must it been for him to resist doing something to himself? She, yet again, felt angry at Arthur for even putting Percy in this situation in the first place... but this was really masking the anger she had for herself. _She should've been there with him._ With the twins, she'd barely ever left him! Nowadays, however, hours could pass by and she wouldn't have heard a whisper from him. Sometimes, meal times would pass without her even having an inkling of a clue how he was doing. And it wasn't because _he_ was getting any better; _she_ was just becoming more negligent! And what was going on in that little head of his? He must've noticed! Even Lucy had noticed that she was seeing Percy less and less and...

Audrey eyed him, pressing a warm hand against his cold cheek. He moved away from her instantly, turning away so that she was met with his back. From the corner of her eye, she watched Arthur pick up his battered wand pieces and pocket them.

Audrey moved forward and pulled open his mouth as gingerly as possible, noticing the small flecks of red spots on the roof of his mouth. Arthur was right. He did try to scratch his mouth out somehow.

Percy tore his face to one side, opening his weary blue eyes. He did not look amused.

"Audrey, are you inspecting my oral cavity before you dive in for a snog?" he mumbled in irritation, closing his eyes again and letting out a yawn.

"I'm inspecting your _oral cavity_ because you've happened to scratch it to bits," Audrey herself wasn't very amused. "Percy, what in Rowena's name did you think you were doing?"

Percy kept his eyes closed. "I didn't attempt to harm myself. I was..." his voice started to drift off.

"You _better_ have a good reason for this," warned Audrey. "Of all the moronic things you've done to harm yourself since you've left that Godric-forsaken ward—"

"Yes, I do. Again, this was _not_ my attempt at harming myself," he replied almost automatically, pulling the blankets above his frame again. He kept his eyes closed as he explained, "Seeing my father has put me into a state of despair. I recalled a few memories that have happened in the ward. I happened to recall a particularly unpleasant memory and the memory happened to be vivid enough that I had decided to make a fool of myself in front of my father. I was... attempting to pull a tarantula out of my mouth. I know that I seem to be nostalgic about the ward, as I tend to find myself recalling memories of it at all times and I seem to do all I can to give people reasons to throw me back in there."

Audrey wanted to kill him for his poor excuse of a joke. "A tarantula?" she echoed.

"Yes," Percy replied; voice apathetic. "A nurse did make me swallow one before. It is not quite the best memory, hence me attempting to shove the blasted thing out of my... _oh, Audrey, just let me sleep_."

Audrey nodded her head, placing a hand on his shoulder. She leaned down to peck his cheek.

He seemed to have fallen back asleep already. She then remembered that she should probably wake him up for dinner, but knowing Molly, she was going to make sure he had dinner, probably with someone because the interaction with other people seemed very sporadic and lacking in substance.

She looked up to see Molly and Arthur standing there, both with unreadable expressions.

Audrey wasn't quite done yelling at Arthur, but his wand _was_ torn to bits... and he would never have a wand that was as compatible as this. There was also the fact that Arthur didn't seem to be complaining about it.

"You must think that I'm terrible for even allowing this to happen to my child in the first place," Molly suddenly said to Audrey.

"No," Audrey responded honestly. "It sounds like _you_ think that you're terrible for allowing this to happen to your child in the first place."

Molly nodded her head. "I feel like I'm doing something wrong here, that I'm just not taking care of him like I'm supposed to. I don't know how to just make him snap back, if there is a way to even do such a thing. I feel terrible for just wanting him to wake up and be... just himself again. It isn't really possible with whatever happened in that ward, is it? We're just stuck with... having to attempt to cope with this?"

Audrey cleared the lump in her throat. "I hope not," she genuinely answered. "I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley, but if he doesn't make any proper progress soon and stop with consistently trying to hack his own body parts, I'm taking this child and Lucy and I'm leaving. I can't..."

She swallowed the lump in his throat. "I can't live like this forever," she tried to explain. "And I'd rather _not_ have my children ever have to witness Percy post self-mutilation."

Molly flinched. Arthur stayed silent.

"I want to tell you that you can't do that to him, that you shouldn't but..." Molly sounded conflicted. _"I can't._ I mean I _have_ to deal with him. He's my son after all. I can't just let him... but what can I really do? I just feel like...I don't quite _really_ know. I love him, but—"

"Well, I am quite sorry that you have to _deal_ with me," Audrey's heart stopped. It was like she was having a proper nightmare play out right in front of her. Every body part of her was frozen as a tired looking Percy stared at them with a look that could've turned anyone to stone. He was asleep just _seconds_ ago! What was he doing here? "You lot should really decide on what you want to do with me. You refuse to let me end my life or allow me to harm myself, but you're not quite acting like you value my life very much at the moment."

And she could say nothing as she watched Percy turn around and storm off back into the shed.


	54. Chapter 54

**_inquiries to any comments on the last chapter:_**

 ** _FairyRave:_** _i had to look back at the chapter and saw exactly where you were getting at. funny cause i didn't think about it that way until i read this comment!_

* * *

Chapter Fifty-Four

* * *

Minutes after entering the Burrow, Audrey collapsed on a rickety old chair. She placed her head into her already wet, pale hands and sobbed with reckless abandon.

Audrey _wished_ that she was sobbing over the fact that her skin had become absolutely covered in strange, strawberry-coloured rashes from Molly's knitted mouldy banana frock. She _wished_ she was sobbing over the fact that three hours ago, she'd found out that her favourite Quidditch team had lost a major match _("It's alright, Audrey,"_ Fred had told her. _"I'm sorry that your Quidditch team sucks more than the Chudley Canons."_ She digressed. _Percy_ could play better than any player on the Chudley Canons... and the Wigtown Wanderers were leaps better than any other European team!) Audrey _wished_ she was sobbing over the fact that it was absolutely freezing tonight, so much so that she was sure that her toes had broken off and were currently rolling around in her heeled Mary Jane shoes. Normally, losing body parts were a very good reason to dissolve into a heaping, sobbing mess but...

Instead, her tears were a product of the fact that the scene that had played out in front of her only moments ago. There she was, taking Percy down a notch (or two... or _ten_ in front of his own mother—whom happened to agree with her!) and he happened to hear _every single word that she said_... and she still hadn't found out why he'd left the shed in the first place! But oh, he'd heard her and—

Godric... what a truly appalling ordeal. And as one could see, she was handling it rather well! She'd only ploughed through half a tissue box effortlessly, cursed the walls for being walls and attempted to see if there were any garden gnomes she could fling stones at.

Percy? Bonkers? No, he was perfectly sane compared to her at the moment.

Audrey attempted to go see him after the calamity had happened. She found him sitting by his bed. He was sobbing, fingernails digging into his thighs and big, fat tears cascading down his eyes. The minute he caught sight of her, Percy started shaking his head, begging her to leave _("Please. I do not wish for anyone to see me in this dishevelled state. I still wish to preserve the smallest shard of dignity I have left.")_. She could've argued with him but he'd been so distressed and Audrey didn't think that she could dare disregard his wishes when he was in such a state... especially when she was the one that put him in it!

She sighed deeply, turning her face towards the Weasley family clock. What a lying, poorly constructed hunk of wood! All of the handles of the clock were pointed at _Home_.

Firstly, Percy was living in a shed with walls that he loathed the shade of, completely secluded from the rest of the house. He was also probably attempting to empty his body of its blood content before sunrise tomorrow. Secondly, Charlie was in Romania. Thirdly, Bill was bouncing between houses. Fourthly, the twins only visited to take the mickey out of her and Percy. And lastly, Ron, Ginny and Arthur were barely in the house as it was! They treated it more like a hostel than a home!

Audrey wished she could burn the blasted clock down and then dance around the ashes.

However, she did not think that Molly would appreciate this.

In her attempt to calm herself down, Audrey went to fix herself up a plate of supper. Her plate consisted of a salty and sweet coconut cake with a discerning blue colour from the food colouring (Molly called it a _sea salt cake_. Ginny called it an abomination that should be fed to those that were undeserving of love), a chicken breast along with a tomato, carrot and cucumber salad. Audrey happily chomped her way through most of her proper meal, before tucking into the cake.

She did _not_ understand how Percy could eat this by the dragon load... at least not without his teeth suddenly disintegrating. She could barely eat more than a mouthful before she felt like falling into a sugar coma!

( _"I suppose it is slightly sweet cake,"_ she could remember Percy telling her when she'd asked what in Merlin's name a sea salt cake was. _"Though I believe that's because the name is misnomer. I think the chunks of sea salt are there to simply accentuate the sweetness."_ )

Slightly sweet cake? Audrey wondered what kind of cakes he'd been eating all his life. She also wondered how he even managed to detect the most miniscule amount of salt in this product.

As Audrey was attempting to choke down what felt like a spoonful of pure icing sugar, a certain blonde-haired girl with hair as long as Rapunzel's hair trotted into the living room.

Avis' belly had gotten rounder since she'd been in the Burrow, and yesterday, she lost her first tooth (and _then ate it_ because apparently, part-troll babies had stomachs of steel and intestines of lead. Meanwhile, Audrey's body was too weak to withstand a slice of cake). Penelope managed to get it all on video camera much to Ron's horror, whom had decided that he'd witnessed the most revolting thing in his life _("Hermione, she ATE her tooth! She bloody ate a part of herself! That's got to be some sort of self... self-cannibalism!"_ ).

Also, much to Bill's absolute irritation; Penelope had additionally managed to snag live footage of the unusual rash on his bum. Like a strange Rorschach test, everyone could see something entirely different when they had a look at it. Audrey honestly thought it was glumbumble shaped.

Harry did not seem too keen on playing along, mentioning that every time he had a look at something like this, he could see the blasted Grim. Audrey thought he might need to get his glasses checked out and his head partially examined. She did offer to do this for him, but for some odd reason, he declined!

Five-month-old-but-by-some-unusual-magic-looked-like-a-six-year-old Avis Flint had wandered towards Audrey and stole a bit of the sea salt cake from her plate. She crushed it into the palm of her hand before shoving the fistful of it into her mouth. Thick flecks of coconut now adorned not only the carpet, but also Avis' mouth and hands. Audrey thought that it really brought out the most recent stain embellishing the carpet—the hot cocoa stain that was attributed to a very moody Ron and a very energetic Avis. Technically, however, it wasn't _his_ fault he'd accidentally stepped on Avis' hair.

 _"Someone should cut that wretched thing!"_ Ron yet again did not seem much smitten by Avis and her childlike innocence. _"Merlin, if it grows any longer, it's going to eat us all!"_

 _"You try to cut it! Just try to!" _Penelope had replied _._

Whenever anyone attempted to cut Avis' hair, she would clasp her small chubby hands over her long locks, and then start to wail.

By the sounds of Avis' cries, Audrey would've thought she'd seen George's mathematical skills.

It was eerie how no matter what triggered Avis' screeches, they would come to a nearly frightening halt when Molly would walk into the room. In fact, Avis' favourite and most predominant past time seemed to stalking Molly Weasley. The yellow-haired bundle had gotten so used to Molly's presence that she would throw terrible fits when Molly would go use the lavatory ( _"I'll just be a moment, dear! Just a moment!"_ Audrey could remember Molly trying to explain to an attached Avis, whom normally did nothing but stare at her with unblinking eyes. _"Where's your mum? Go look for your mum! ... Oh, ARTHUR! Come take her away!"_ )

According to all the part-troll baby development books that Audrey was forced to read in the past to be able to pass her clinical examinations, Avis was developing very normally. At the current moment, she would be stuck looking like a six-year-old for another five or so years before she grew _(quickly!)_ again. She was due to start talking any minute now. Penelope had been eagerly waiting and insisted on walking around with her video camera, much to Arthur's excitement and everyone else's (especially Bill's) annoyance.

Audrey pushed the plate aside, brushing away coconut from Avis' face and mouth.

"Where is Lucy?" Penelope's voice had startled Audrey, whom felt her heart do a bit of a jolt. Audrey was far from blind. She knew that despite the younger girl being married to Marcus Flint, she did have something for _her_ Percy. In fact, Audrey would have to be blinder than a half-vampire to not be able to notice it. "I swear it's like she's never around you nowadays."

"That's because she isn't," Audrey replied. "Charlie's taken her down to Romania."

Penelope gaped at Audrey. "How could you just let your _eight-_ year-old daughter go to the Romanian dragon reserve? Forgoing the fact that _you're_ not there to chaperone her... forgive me for criticising, but it does seem somewhat irresponsible to have your child be in a country you've probably never been in, toying around with nearly untameable beasts that breathe fire."

Audrey attempted to restrain herself from attempting to tear off that little tart's blonde curls.

"Lucy _is_ being chaperoned... by Charlie _and_ she writes me every single day!" Audrey said coldly. "Things have been in a proper shamble these days. I thought that a nice trip up to Romania would do her wonders, especially since Charlie seems to be dying to take someone down there. She's always wanted to go and I trust Charlie enough—and if I were you, I'd stop critiquing other people's parenting skills."

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's the kind of response I'd expect from someone that cannot critique my parenting skills because there is nothing to critique about!"

Nothing to critique about? Did Penelope really think that highly of herself? Audrey wondered.

"If I was to critique your parenting skills," Audrey's voice was calm and collected "I'd mention that putting Avis in a situation where she might be constrained is a terrible move. When she's older, she might actually want to go see dragons or go thestral riding or other activities that one typically associate with death and disability but children seem to find a good load of fun nowadays!"

" _My_ Avis would never—" Penelope huffed.

"She might," Audrey raised an eyebrow at Penelope. Did Penelope really think that Avis was going to grow up exactly like her? "I do want to mention that if you are going to restrict such things from her in the future, that you'd keep in mind that the outcome would be abysmal."

Penelope nodded her head. " _Very_ abysmal! She won't be torn to shreds, and I wouldn't have to worry about her frolicking about with some dragon tamer that's promised her a good night out!"

"Oh, please, my _eight_ year old daughter is not interested in frolicking about with any lad!" Audrey was in complete disbelief. "And as for Avis... from what I know, part trolls do not do well with restrictions. Apparently, if you attempt to contain their natural instincts, they grow up acting unsure, uncertain of themselves and depriving themselves of basic pleasures in their life. They tend to question their own intelligence and let people walk all over them in an unbearable fashion."

"Is... is that a jab at _my husband?_ " Penelope's cheeks were turning red from anger.

Audrey's face remained still. "No, it is not. It's a word of advice," she said.

Translation: it was definitely a jab at her husband and Penelope would have to be a fool to believe otherwise.

 _"Deprive themselves of basic pleasures of life?"_ Penelope mocked in a high pitched voice. "Firstly, Marcus can't eat because of his teeth! It is not because he is depriving himself of—"

"I am too bloody old to play these games with you, Penelope. You're only mentioning all of this because you see me as unworthy of Percy's affection," Audrey warned in a tone that could rival Percy's stiff and stern one. "I do not appreciate it. Grow up. I urge you to attempt to respect that Percy likes me and to move on instead of attempting to find faults in me."

Penelope's lips twisted into a sardonic smile. "I'm sure that's why Percy is absolutely ecstatic right about now, sitting in his shed and thinking of _all_ the good, sweet things that you've done for him!" she waved her arms around in a melodramatic fashion. "He will forget about what you've told him, Audrey, but _I_ won't. I won't let you forget about this for the rest of eternity if so be it. You know that Molly's told me what you've said about him. That you might leave him—"

 _"—is this_ c _oming from someone that has thrown her husband out of their flat out for FIVE WHOLE BLOODY MONTHS after he'd saved her life_ —" an agitated Audrey argued.

"—because Percy's so mentally unhinged! You can't even look at him without realising he's the textbook definition of someone that's bonkers! In fact, I can't hold a proper conversation with him at all because all he says is complete gibberish!" Penelope finished off her sentence. "Percy is not as bad as you think he is for what he's bloody gone through. He's not all there. It's like he's a shell of himself but Godric, _he's trying!_ Do you really think so lowly of him? You know that he has a problem. Everyone knows that he has a problem but you're forcing it out of him and watching him implode and then saying that he's unstable!"

Audrey gawked at Penelope, whom was staring at her with livid blue eyes. That little tight-arsed tart!

"Listen, sweetheart," Audrey offered a sickly sweet smile to the blonde. "I love Percy, but I'm not blind to the fact that taking care of him is an excruciating, exhausting process—"

"How _loving!_ " Penelope spat out. "Percy is really lucky to have you around!"

Ignoring her, Audrey continued to explain her point. "When Lucy grows up, she'll pick up on this. In fact, if I leave her long enough around him, she will definitely pick up on the fact that something is wrong. I'm just coming to terms with the idea that there is a chance that Percy might never get any better, even though I _know_ that he's trying his hardest. You're right. He _is_ a shell of himself. The ward properly did him in and the only reason we're forcing it out of him is because otherwise, Percy would never bloody admit he has a problem. He'd just pretend like he's the same person he was before the ward, and then one day just _erupt_... and I'm sure at that particular day, the mess would be too great for anyone to even attempt to clean up. I've _purposely_ pushed him beyond so many boundaries because I feel like that's what he _needs_. I felt like he needed to be out of his comfort zone. Honestly, if it were up to him, we'd still be living in my flat and I'd be trying to explain to Lucy why I have to tend to Percy before I can even think of making her breakfast."

"Oh?" Penelope raised an eyebrow. "And your solution to this debacle is to leave him for something that is not his fault, something that he finds nearly impossible to control and did not ask for and is a product of _a trauma that he shouldn't have went through in the first place?_ "

Audrey's eyes hardened. "Well, what else can I do? I can't deal with this every day! I—"

Penelope cut her off again. "For Godric's sake, do you care about him at all? Do you know how much leaving him will muck him up? Or do you think he's so far gone that it doesn't really matter at all?"

 _"I DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF PERSON WOULD BE ABLE TO STOMACH SEEING SOMEONE THEY LOVE STRUGGLE LIKE **THIS** EVERY SINGLE DAY!"_ Audrey exploded. _"BECAUSE I CAN'T!"_

Penelope jolted backwards, staring at her with a scared, pale expression. Avis ran to Penelope, clinging onto her. She buried her head into Penelope's robes before she started to cry.

 _"I DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH MORE OF IT I CAN STAND!"_ Audrey's voice was starting to crack. Tears were starting to form at the corner of her brown eyes. Avis' cries were getting louder but Audrey's yelling was dominating over it easily. "You want me to stay here and watch someone I- _I love_ torture themselves relentlessly because of something that they find nearly impossible to control, did not ask for and is a product of a trauma that they shouldn't have went through in the first place? _THOSE WERE YOUR WORDS, WEREN'T THEY, PENELOPE?_ You want me to stay here and watch him suffer over something that I should've stopped from happening if I cared about him at all but _I didn't stop it_ and now, it's too bloody late and—and Godric, _THIS IS SO STUPID!"_

Audrey was surprised when Penelope wrapped her arms around her, letting Audrey bury her head into her shoulder. She was taller than Audrey. In fact, in her heeled boots, Penelope was definitely taller than Percy.

"I don't want to leave him but I also can't stay and I don't know what to do but I can't be his caretaker all my life either but at the same time _I can't leave him_. It's not his fault. _He's just a child, he's_..." Audrey was choking, sobbing and clinging so tightly onto Penelope she felt her entire body shake. "And _I've_ mucked up so badly. He probably doesn't want to see me again either way. I've made it worse for him. I've probably done it this time. I should leave because he shouldn't have to worry about-about the fact that _I'm_ going off a tangent and upset him like this again. He doesn't bloody deserve this. Godric, he heard his own mother telling me that she had to _deal_ with him because he was her son and-and- _and_... Oh, Merlin, what am _I_ supposed to do?"

"Audrey, _stop_ ," Penelope demanded, her voice starting to crack as well. " _Please_ _stop_. It's alright. It's alright..."

A few hiccups left Audrey's lips, and she let out a few stifled sobs. She would really love to fall into that sea salt cake induced sugar coma right now. She would love to fall into any coma right now. This was so overwhelming. She couldn't cope with this. She couldn't cope with any of this.

"I love him but what..." Audrey's throat was sore and her body ached. "What am _I_ supposed to d-do...?"

"Audrey, breathe," Penelope pulling Audrey's chin up. She seemed to find her voice. "Look. Let's just go to the shed and talk it out. I'm sure... I'm sure that we can come to a better conclusion here."

"No, I can't," Audrey said, sounding more like Georgia by the second. "He hates me. I'm sure he hates me."

"No, no, no, Percy doesn't hate you. He _can't_ hate you," Penelope was trying to wipe away Audrey's tears but a new stream of tears had followed soon afterwards. "He's bloody in love with you. You're the best thing that's happened to him probably. Come on. Let's go wash up and then we can go talk to him."

"Tomorrow," Audrey insisted.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Penelope decided to mention. "Avis, Marcus and I are going to go out and see a bit of the world. I think it'll do us some good now. It's taken me forever to draw up the Portkeys that we're going to use to hop about each country but it'll be worth it. At least I _hope_ so."

Audrey swallowed the lump in her throat and said nothing to this. All she could think about was the fact that Oliver Wood must be livid to hear this. He seemed to have wanted to take Marcus around the world too.

"It's okay," Penelope reiterated, running her hand through Audrey's hair again. Her touch was gentle, almost like air trying to weed through her hair. "Come on. Let's wash up and we can talk to him... everything's going to be fine, Audrey. Everything's going to be fine."

"O... Okay," a weary Audrey agreed.

After a quick wash of her face, she decided to change her frock. Penelope immediately tried to tend to her rashes by applying a thing of Madame Primpernelle's on her skin. The rashes had faded into a less obvious, light pink hue but were still incredibly painful. Audrey would've scratched them silly if not for the fact she wasn't sure where to start scratching. As for clothing, Penelope had apparated back to her flat to try and get Audrey something nice and comfortable to wear.

Returning back to the lavatory, Penelope offered her a pair of robes that could rival with any of Audrey's.

Audrey was surprised the minute that she held them into her hand. They were incredibly soft. The material was so top notch that she had to wonder if Penelope had given Audrey a _Twilfitt and Tatting's_ robe. The price tag was still on (and Audrey really tried not to look at the price, but _Godric!_ She could pay rent for a _year_ with the cost of this frock!), which made Audrey feel worse because Penelope obviously hadn't worn it yet!

"I can't wear this," Audrey was staring over at the colour of it! It was a nice violet shade. It would've go perfectly with Penelope's golden hair and bright blue eyes. "I—"

"Of course you can wear this! Don't worry about it! I have an identical pair of robes at home—same colour, just at a different size," Penelope was quick to protest. "Now, take it and put it on."

 _A different size?_ Audrey reiterated. _Probably a **much** smaller size._

Audrey was weary of slipping the robes onto her frame. They seemed a tiny bit snug around her chest.

She looked back at Penelope's frame. Every petite curve of hers looked smooth, and she looked like she had no wobbly bits to speak of! It surprised Audrey that this woman had _just_ had a baby. She was so dainty and willowy that Audrey was afraid to hug her just in she'd break her into pieces. It certainly made Audrey wonder how Penelope looked like before she'd given birth.

"Why would you buy two of the same robes? Especially given the price of one of these!" honestly, when Audrey had opened her big fat mouth, she had meant to show her gratitude instead of asking such an insignificant question. She was absolutely astonished at the look of it. She had never been in such a beautiful pair of robes in her life! This made even the prettiest robes that she had look like second-hand rubbish.

Penelope's cheeks coloured in. " _I_ didn't... _err_ , Marcus bought me these and he doesn't know how to pick sizes. He's used to wearing his oversized duvet as a pair of robes."

Audrey slowly nodded her head. "These robes are so beautiful," she finally managed to say. "Thank you."

She was so taken back by how the fabric seemed to shimmer, but not glitter. It was even softer against her skin and it made her look absolutely darling. In her opinion, Audrey had the most average body type – every part of her was soft. She had dimply thighs and a pudgy, protruding belly with oversized breasts. She did not look the least bit attractive in her opinion. She was nobody's conventional beauty standard, nothing like Penelope with her somewhat hourglass like figure and non-existent waist.

"You're so pretty," Penelope said, and she sounded like she honestly meant it.

WHEN they left the Burrow to go to the shed, Audrey's stomach started to coil again. Audrey's eyes were already pooling with a fresh stream of hot tears, which were already threatening to spill. She found it almost impossible to keep herself steady. Her whole body was shaking and her chest was tightening by the second. Seeing her hesitation, Penelope cracked open the door to the shed and walked in by herself. In the mean time, Audrey was standing outside, trying _not_ to dissolve into a thick gelatinous mess.

Not only ten minutes later did Penelope burst out of the shed. The look of worry etched on her face was not a good sign and Audrey felt the ropes in her stomach twisting and bending even more. "Penny?"

"Audrey... _Audrey_ ," Penelope's voice was filled with urgency. She looked close to crying and Audrey could already feel tears running down her cheeks and she didn't even know what was going on. "Percy's _gone_. And... all his books are missing!"


	55. Chapter 55

_**responses to any inquiries on last chapter:**_

 _ **FairyRave:** "Two girls are fighting over Percy, I wonder what he would think of that." i don't think he'd believe it until he sees it himself! i love that we're 55 chapters in, and tbh, he still has no clue that Penelope even likes him in that manner. _

_**Phoenixx Rising** : i love reading your comments. you're so Team Percy it's ridiculously great. and i'm happy that Arthur finally did something you approve of! poor Arthur. i think i butchered his character in this fanfic. and probably in the next ones to come. poor, poor Arthur. it's just i always feel the need to have Percy have a tense relationship with one of his parents, and it's definitely not going to be Molly! _

* * *

Chapter Fifty-Five

* * *

"I'm going to kill him," a furious seventeen-year-old Ginny had decided, grabbing her coat and draping it over her petite frame. "I'm going to find him and then I'm going to kill him."

"Ginevra," Arthur called out, reaching over to place a hand on his daughter's shoulder. She did not seem to calm down. Instead, she looked even angrier. "Where are you going off to?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, her eyes on the ground. "I'm going to find him."

Arthur would never have guessed Ginny would have such a reaction to finding out that Percy had left them again, just like he did when they were children. "Come on now," he tried to reason with her, placing a hand on her freckled cheek and stroking it. She pushed away. "Where would you even look?"

Ron was rolling his eyes. "She'd just go to every library in Europe," he mumbled. "She'll probably find him wedged between encyclopaedia volumes."

"Everywhere... I'll look _everywhere!_ " Ginny said. Her long dark red hair was flying in all directions.

"Just leave the git alone," Ron was obviously not impressed. Arthur supposed that it was a bit tiring having Percy come in and out of their lives like this. It felt like the minute they got hold of him, he slipped away like Floo powder at the palm of Arthur's hand. "If he wants to come home, he'll come home."

Ginny didn't look like she fancied giving Percy a whack anymore with how murderously she was staring over at Ron. Her expression was so cold that it made Arthur shudder.

"Fine," Ginny said to Ron, her voice lacing with venom. "You sit here and whine about something Percy did ten years ago, and _I'm_ going to look for our missing brother."

Ron bit back. "Come on, Gin! You've probably bonded more with Malfoy than you did with Percy! You probably talked to him _three times_ since he's come back from the hospital! I'm sure one of those times was just you telling him to come down to dinner."

"And you can't tell me that you don't care at all about the fact that he's gone? _Again?"_ Ginny spat out.

"This is the third time he's gone off to somewhere. When are you going to stop caring? He's done this enough times, Gin! He's a bloody drama queen!" Ron reminded her. "Just because Perfect Prefect Percy left out of _his own will_ , you're ready to tear down Europe to find him!"

Ginny's shoulders dropped, but her face remained stern. Her eyes turned to Arthur. "And what do _you_ think? _You're_ the reason Percy was in the hospital in the first place!"

Arthur was surprised at this. He didn't know that Ginny had felt this way about him. Hearing that his only daughter thought that he'd just let Percy rot in the ward made something coil in his abdomen. "I was under the Imperius! I couldn't stop it from happening."

"And we _couldn't_ do anything about it for six years?" Ginny retorted.

Ron stared over at her like she was mad. "Well, there was the fact that Voldemort had risen again and we had a war happen in the time that he was chained to his hospital cot, moaning about the ward's filing systems and _substandard_ hospital food."

A lump formed in Arthur's throat. He didn't quite know how to tell Ron that there were definitely no hospital cots in that ward. He was also sure that if there was a filing system, Percy wouldn't be able to find out much about it given that it was pitch black in there.

"Yes, and they've treated him _so well_ when he's been there," Ginny spat back. "That's why he came back looking like he'd been hung in Voldemort's dungeon for the past six years!"

Arthur had no idea what to say, or if he could even contribute to this conversation at all.

"Look at what that bastard did to mum and his girlfriend!" Ron pointed towards a crying Audrey, whom was being held by an upset looking Molly. Sitting on an old chair that would collapse any day now was a pale Penelope. "His _pregnant_ girlfriend!"

"Who did what to his pregnant girlfriend?" Percy stated. He was standing by the doorway with a parcel tucked underneath his arm. The minute that Ginny saw him, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him so tightly that Arthur was sure that she'd broken one of his ribs. "I could hear crying all the way down the Lovegood household! Dear Merlin, I go into Diagon Alley for an hour and suddenly, the whole house's fallen apart and everyone's having a go at each other!"

"Ginevra, please," Percy was shifting uncomfortably into her arms. "What in Helga's name has happened when I was away? What have I missed?"

Ginny moved away from him, beaming at him. "Percy, you're a git."

Percy rolled his eyes. "Thank—"

 _"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT'S HAPPENED?!"_ Penelope shrieked in a shrill voice, jumping up from the chair she was sitting on and practically stomping towards him. "Next time you spontaneously decide to leave the shed, it'll be nice to let someone know! Even if you aren't exactly in the most talkative mood, you should've at least written a note and pinned it somewhere—"

Percy raised an eyebrow. "You mean like the one I stuck on the wall before I—"

He didn't get to finish that sentence because Audrey, whom Arthur hadn't been paying much attention to, suddenly wrapped her arms around him and buried her head into his shoulder, still sobbing recklessly. Arthur could see his wife's face wash over with immediate relief.

"W..." Penelope's cheeks coloured in deeply. _"What?"_

"You..." Percy looked down at his crying girlfriend, whom was probably in danger of breaking one of Percy's blood vessels from how tightly she was holding onto him. "You were under the incorrect impression that I've ran away from home."

"Well, we didn't exactly..." Penelope tried to argue, crossing her arms over her chest.

Percy had the most vacant expression on his face. "Without a wand, food or money."

Arthur realised why Percy found this so comical. Even when he'd ran away when he was ten, he'd somehow managed to procure a wand, had a rucksack bursting with food and the few bits of silver that he'd managed to save up over the years.

Ginny's cheeks coloured in and Ron was laughing.

Percy shook his head in disbelief. "At twenty-two years old and—"

"Come on, Percival," Penelope was obviously embarrassed she'd made anyone else feel like that was what indeed had happened. "You've done more nonsensical things."

"I'm sure I have," Percy seemed so incredibly amused. He looked down at Audrey. His facial expression changed completely, and his eyes softened up dramatically. Percy went back to wiping away those tears from her face and then ran his hand through her hair in a delicate manner. "Come on. Let's get your tears wiped off, alright? Come on," he placed a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder and pulled her towards the bathroom.

AFTER a quick wash of her face, Audrey turned to have a proper look at Percy. He was sitting at the edge of the tub just like she had only a few hours ago. He didn't seem angry at her for saying the deplorable things that she'd said. In fact, he was doing that bloody thing that she hated: fiddling about with his sleeve whilst she was having a complete mental breakdown. The nerve of him. She was going to leave him if he kept on doing this rubbish when she was upset... _oh, how she missed him!_ Audrey was just really glad that the tosser hadn't actually left them. She was fully prepared to hunt him down—well, she was going to do so after she'd depleted all of her body's water content through her endless sobbing. The worst thing was Audrey couldn't even have a go at him for frightening them! Because he _did_ pin a note to the wall... _the considerate bastard!_

"Can we start this all over again?" Percy asked in a weak tone of voice as he stood up, wrapping his arms around Audrey. He pressed his head against her shoulder.

"I threatened to leave you," Audrey reminded him—as if the bastard could forget.

Percy had a look of confusion on his face as he turned to look at her. "When?" he asked with a smile on his face as he poked her stomach. Godric, she was going to saw off his hand next time he did that. "I can't quite recall such an incident. I do remember that my mum was whining on about me and insisted that she had to deal with me, but I can't quite recall you being in the picture, madam. I assure you if such a thing happened; I would remember it now, wouldn't I?"

"Percy!" Audrey was frustrated at him. "Can you be serious for just one minute?"

Percy raised an eyebrow. "I'm always serious, Audrey," he tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"Right now, you're not!" Audrey protested.

"No, I really am quite serious, Audrey. Deadly so," Percy replied in the tone he normally reserved for his younger siblings. "In fact, I was going to mention that I would like to go back to the flat with you. I want us to try to have some semblance of a normal relationship because I truly believe that we can make this work out if we give it another chance... a proper chance that is."

What a bastard. She threatened to leave him and now, he wanted to move in with her!

Audrey didn't know whether or not to believe him. It wasn't his fault that he was like this, and it wasn't her fault that she couldn't handle it. She just stared at his big, begging blue eyes. Godric, how she hated him. Percy seemed to be quite serious about the whole affair and more than anything, she wanted to give him a chance. She knew that she shouldn't, because what were the chances of _anything_ changing? It wasn't as if Percy would wake up one day and forget how it was like to swallow a tarantula.

"This is it?" Audrey stared over at him. "That's it? Things are going to change now?"

Percy nodded his head again. " _Everything_ is going to change now."

Audrey nodded her head, not leaving his eyes for a moment. "And if it doesn't?"

"Well," Percy offered a watery smile. Wasn't there a point where she was going to throw herself and ask for his forgiveness? Why did it feel like the other way around right about now? This didn't feel right. "Well, if nothing changes, then we can sit down and discuss the details of our separation."

A pang of pain suddenly walloped Audrey over the head. "Oh..." her voice was soft. "Alright."

"Alright?" Percy reiterated.

Audrey nodded her head. Of course, it wasn't alright. She didn't want them to separate. Godric, she didn't know what she wanted. She just didn't want him to look so bloody sad all the time.

"Alright," she repeated.

IT wasn't until Arthur caught Percy walking into the kitchen that he'd decided that now might be a good time to join and attempt to make some form of light conversation with him.

The last time that he'd tried to talk to Percy was only a few hours ago. It was not a very light-hearted chat that they've had. The lad started to scratch his mouth and Arthur, being startled by this, had left—only for him to discover later on that Percy had actually been attempting to pull out an invisible spider from his mouth based on a vivid memory that had happened in the ward. Arthur had felt so guilty for leaving him that he was actually nearly glad Percy had snapped his wand. It lessened the tugging feeling at his stomach, just like looking at the scars he had on his hand made him feel more at ease with the whole debacle. They had become very prominent scars, and were as a result of a fifteen-year-old Percy biting his hand six years ago.

According to Ginny, this situation was probably Arthur's fault for allowing Percy to be there in the first place. Now, he looked like he'd been tortured in You-Know-Who's dungeons.

According to Ron, Percy was chained to a hospital cot, moaning about the fact that he was supposed to be Head Boy now and returned back home traumatised from the lack of good literature.

"I am so sorry that you have to witness this massacre," Percy's voice had pulled Arthur out of his thoughts.

Arthur didn't know what Percy was implying or referring to until he pulled out a knife from the drawer. Arthur's heart did a jolt and he was just about to call Molly because he was almost certain that Percy was going to slash some body part... Percy _did_ use the word massacre after all.

Percy placed down the knife on the table, and Arthur grabbed it because the opportunity was there.

The last thing he wanted Percy to do was hack himself in their kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow when he saw Percy turn to open the fridge and pull out Molly's mostly eaten sea salt cake—there was probably only really one and a half substantial slices in there. Bollocks. Why did he have to use the word _massacre_? Now, Arthur had a knife behind his back because he thought his child was going to slit himself silly and a perplexed Percy was sat there wondering where his knife had gone.

Percy turned to pick up another knife from the drawer. He watched Percy cut a thin piece of cake and then shove it into his mouth in a very Ron-like manner.

"I'm extremely sorry you have to see me like this," Percy reiterated, staring down at his black button-down, which was now covered in icing sugar and sprinkles. In fact, all of Percy was covered in icing sugar and sprinkles. "Father, what in Merlin's name are you doing with that knife?"

"Err, I was..." Arthur did not have a good answer for this. He was not in Ravenclaw after all. The only answer that came to his mind was that he needed to use it for a shave. "I just thought to hold it for you."

Percy nodded his head. He didn't believe him one bit. "I'm sure."

Arthur stiffened in his position and put the knife down. Godric. He needed to have a proper tutorial about when to expect Percy to do something violet and disturbing to avoid putting himself in a scenario like this!

"Father?" Percy called out. It was odd talking to Percy and seeing his face still stern but at the same time, there were pink and blue sprinkles dotting his nose.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Yes?"

Percy ate another bit of cake. "I do not tend to harm myself in front of other people."

Arthur felt the heat rushing to his cheeks. He opened his mouth, but he still had not come up with a better excuse for why he had taken Percy's knife. He couldn't even say that he wanted a slice of the cake himself; because this cake was the vilest thing that Molly insisted on making and Percy knew that Arthur loathed it nearly just as much as he loathed Malfoy (well, this and her Christmas pudding.)

He felt like eating honeyed sugar covered in golden syrup would be less sweet.

"Believe it or not," Percy continued, breaking off a piece from the slice that he had in his hand. There were crumbles everywhere, and it really did look like a massacre in Percy's defence. A cake massacre. "I do have this shard of dignity and sanity that tends to stop me from chopping off body parts in front of other people."

"Yes, of course," Arthur replied in a somewhat less certain voice.

Arthur's eyes were locked onto the patches of visible skin. Percy's shirt sleeves were rolled up and his shirt had ridden up. Godric, he could see what Ginny was getting at now that he had his time to actually look at Percy. It didn't help that every flesh wound seemed accentuated by Percy's withered frame.

"Father?" Percy hadn't even looked up from his plate.

Arthur stiffened. "Yes?"

"I would prefer it if you not stare at my cuts," Percy said, pulling down the sleeves of his shirt, which he'd probably just noticed had rolled up. He grabbed a tissue and wiped away the mess from his face and his shirt. It took him approximately three seconds to look like himself again.

Arthur's cheeks coloured in again. "Alright, Percy."

Arthur let a very awkward silence wash over them. Percy cleaned up the last bit of invisible dirt from his hand before Percy diverted his attention back to _the sugar cake_ —oh, Arthur meant to say _sea salt cake_.

"Penelope said that all your books went missing," Arthur decided to finally mention what was really on his mind... other than the fact that he had no idea how volatile Percy was and was frightened he'd muck up twice within one day. "I suppose you somehow managed to take all these books with you?"

Percy nodded his head. "Yes, I've given them all to a second hand shop."

Arthur stared at Percy as if he just told Arthur that he wanted to do swimsuit modelling as a career. To him, this was just about the equivalent of Ron giving away all his Chudley Canon merchandise for a few spares sickles. "You've done _what_?"

"Well, fine, you've caught me," Percy said. It was impressive how only a minute ago Percy was eating, talking and making a mess. Just a few moments ago, Arthur felt like he'd had that drink that Ayden was always offering him and now, they were back to _this_. "I _did_ keep my copy of _Prefects Who Gained Power_."

"Percy," Arthur was trying not to make any sudden movements, or say anything that might be even mildly upsetting. He kept his tone as neutral and calm as he possibly could. "Why did you decide to sell all your books? How many were there really? Four thousand something?"

"Four thousand, two hundred and fifty-two," Percy recalled with ease. "Yes, I've sold all of them. That is, excluding my copy of _Prefects Who Gained Power_."

This direction of this conversation made his whole stomach churn.

"I was under the understanding that these books are in my possession," Percy was trying to clarify. Arthur still didn't understand _why_. "Thus, I can do whatever I want with them."

"They are," Arthur swallowed the lump on your throat. Quick change of topic. He'd warm Percy up to it. "How did you even manage to get all those books out of the shed?"

"I had Lovegood's help with that," Percy explained. No wonder he was mentioning that he'd heard crying all the way down to the Lovegood household. "They're the ones that took me to Diagon Alley. Luna dropped by to have a quick check up on Harry. He's invited her for supper? And she'd offered to take me to Diagon Alley. Luna is a very... eccentric person she is. She has very remarkable beliefs and seems to have very odd ideas about what was going on in the hospital ward."

Arthur chuckled. He could decipher that very easily. _Their beliefs were all rubbish and I was attempting not to spew out fact after fact in my attempts at being polite_ was what Percy really wanted to say.

"How much did you get for them?" Arthur suddenly asked. He was curious to say the least.

Percy's ears had gone red. "Well... um... there were quite a few books in there that were extremely valuable finds that mum has underestimated the value of _greatly_ , and others that were just bits of rubbish but all in all," he looked down at his feet. "About fifteen thousand Galleons. Give or take a few hundred. That's... about nearly four Galleons a book. It averages out to around that, but in reality, quite a bit of these books were barely worth a Knut and others were worth hundreds or sometimes thousands of Sickles..."

Percy turned to take measured mouthfuls of the slice into his hand. He wiped away the most microscopic bit of icing between chews. "Father, why are you staring at me in that manner?"

Arthur was, for the thousandth time in his life, shocked to know that a few bits of paper could cost so much.

"What do you need the money for?" Arthur was still trying to come back to reality. His head was fixed on numbers and calculations. There was a circle of floating knuts dancing before his eyes.

Percy raised an eyebrow. "For Audrey," he answered that bit easily. "Well, given the fact that I shamefully do not have a job and probably would be lucky to even acquire one in the next few years, that is selling subpar newspapers to the public... given my ample qualifications. This is attributed to two things. Firstly, I did not complete my Hogwarts' education. I actually have less O.W.L's than anyone else in this family because I've not done the blasted tests. Secondly, there is also the fact that I am branded as more dangerous than a manticore due to my epilepsy, despite it being treated by Ministerial standards, and it will be mentioned in any form of documentation I would ever hand in for a job and... well; I just don't foresee any brightness to my future. Realistically speaking."

Arthur was glad that this conversation wasn't as depressing as he thought it would be (yes, that was sarcasm). Thus far, he'd been with Percy for fifteen minutes, only to discover that Percy had sold all his books to pay for his baby's expenses and had accepted the fact that he'd apparently never amount to anything in his life. He had gone as far as to say that he would be lucky to sell copies of _The Quibbler_ , a job that small schoolboys did to get a few sickles to buy themselves an ice-cream.

Another moment of silence passed. This one didn't last more than two minutes before Arthur tried to mention another topic. "Percy, have you eaten anything other than this today?"

"I'm not quite sure... I don't believe I have but perhaps, I did," Percy sounded uncertain. He'd stood up, cocking his head to one side as he tried to think of this. "No, I'm sorry. I just simply cannot remember."

That was a brilliant sign of how things were going along.

"Father, did you all really think that I was going to leave my girlfriend, Lucy and my unborn child?" Percy didn't seem to find the situation very amusing anymore. He was poking at the last bit of the cake with his fork, not very interested in it. It was a habit that Molly loathed.

"Well, um..." Arthur still hadn't fully digested that Percy was going to have a child of his own really. There was nothing remotely fatherly about Percy. He was cold and hard around the edges. He was difficult to speak to and there was just too much of a chance that Arthur would bring up a sore subject.

"Percy?" Arthur stared at Percy with a softened expression.

"Yes?" Percy turned around, raising his eyebrows at Arthur.

"Um... I want to say that... what I hope to..." Arthur was stammering.

Percy was just staring back at him with a confused and somewhat irritated expression.

Arthur immediately pulled Percy into a hug, tightening his hold around him almost immediately. He placed his hand against Percy's head, as if supporting a newborn. Arthur didn't know what he expected. He didn't quite expect anything... Percy suddenly just collapsed into Arthur's arms, wrapping his long arms around Arthur's waist and clinging onto him for his dear life.

"I don't want mum to have to deal with me anymore," Percy said in a small voice.

PERCY had never envisioned having this encounter turn out like this before. It was extremely late at night. It was just about one in the morning and Percy was trudging about into the woods. This time, he'd pinned his note at the _door_ to make sure that people did not overreact. Merlin, they wanted him to be out and about just about the minute he was out of the ward. Now that he was actually outside the house for once, everyone was making quite a fuss out of it! Really? They thought that he'd left them! And Audrey had lost all hope in him completely. Audrey was absolutely certain that he'd be mad for the rest of his life, so much so that she needed the fallback plan of separating them just in case he didn't straighten himself out...

As for him, he had his hands in his pocket and was trudging about this muck.

"You know for a bloke that has a dodgy leg, you sure are hard to keep up with!" Ginny's voice pulled Percy out of his reverie. He saw Ginny walking, with Arthur and Molly trailing behind her and a resentful Ron and cross Oliver. Hermione looked to be disapproving of Ron's attitude and Harry seemed mildly confused.

Did the whole family literally follow him into the woods? Godric.

"I can second that," a voice made Percy nearly jump out of his skin. He turned to look down at Audrey, whom had her arms crossed over her chest.

"I would like to take the time to remind everyone that if I fall, I cannot get up anymore due to my dodgy leg," Percy mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "So nobody does any of their surprises—and by Helga Hufflepuff's imposing name, what am I saying? _What are you doing here? Why am I being stalked?_ "

"Stalk?" it was adorable how his father actually found an excuse this time. It was probably just as awful as the other excuses he had in his arsenal. "We were just going for a walk!"

"That happens to be in the exact same trail that I've decided to take a walk in?" Percy mumbled. "I—"

Molly crushed Percy into a hug in a way that made him feel like he probably had some kind of long-term undiagnosed asthma. "How dare you tell your father that you were upset about the fact that I told Audrey that I had to deal with you? You know that I didn't mean it that way! I love you, Percival Ignatius Weasley, and do not forget that for a second."

"Mum!" Percy exclaimed, attempting to wiggle out of her hold. He fell back into Audrey's arms. _Splendid_... just brilliant! Cosmic! And absolutely typical!

Percy stood up and stormed off. The others took this as a clue to follow him.

"Where are we going to, dear?" Molly asked, walking as close to Percy as possible. "You know, if you wanted to have a picnic at one in the morning, you really should've told us something."

"I am not having a picnic all by myself at one in the morning," even Percy wasn't that depressing! Well, at least not since he was fourteen anyway. At the memory of his older picnics, he'd blushed deeply. He remembered taking Scabbers with him down the trail and setting a picnic just for them. Godric, most of his happy memories when he was young was with that little rat. "Ronald? Was Scabbers _really_ a Death Eater?"

"I thought you didn't know anything about the war!" Ron looked suspicious.

Percy rolled his eyes. "Ares told me quite a bit about the war itself... such as the fact that father got attacked by a giant snake, or the fact that Ginny had fallen prey to Tom Riddle's diary. He did emphasise quite a lot one about a veil—or was it _the_ veil...?"

"What about the veil?" Harry suddenly moved close to Percy, staring up at him with attentive green eyes.

Percy had shrugged. "I'm sorry, Harry. I genuinely cannot recall," he pursed his lips together. He did not understand why Harry was so interested about this fabled veil. "Ares was talking about a dog... I believe. I don't see why or how important it is, but I'll be sure to ask about it again during our confrontation."

Harry nodded his head. "You can't remember anything at all?"

Percy shook his head and turned to look properly over at the mucky fields. Percy had seen what he thought to be a flick of a shimmer of something. He moved closer and realised that indeed, the moonlight was just bouncing off Marcus' black hair, making it gleam. Penelope seemed to fuming, probably due to the fact that Marcus had probably ruined Penelope's robes by taking her here. Meanwhile, a gurgling Avis was chewing on rocks, whilst he was pushing around a few other stones with a stick. "Marcus!"

Percy was never good at figuring out which rocks were best to eat. It wasn't a skill he wanted to attain either.

"We're here to see _Flint_?" Ron groaned. Audrey did not look amused either.

"What do you want?" Marcus looked up at him. His stony eyes were particularly translucent today.

"I just... wanted to apologise for attempting to subconsciously attempting to murder you. I thought we were doing this privately but I suppose that this is what we've bubbled down to," Percy said in an indifferent tone of voice. Oh for Dumbledore's sake... he didn't mean to sound like a tosser. He just was one. "Though in my defence, I wouldn't have fantasised about you drowning into a lake—and thus, subsequently being subjected to an extremely low temperature—if I wasn't sure that you couldn't swim."

Marcus stared at Percy with a truly amused look. "I do know how to swim."

"Do you?" Percy's cheeks were colouring in deeply. He was always under the impression that virtually nobody he knew could swim. He might have to do a reassessment now that Ron and Ginny had grown up and that the rest of them may have attained the ability to swim. "Well, err... I've heard that you and Penelope are insisting on going round the world. That would be a good experience I'm sure."

"Well, it was my idea!" Oliver exclaimed hotly. "She stole it from me! _I_ was supposed to be going with him!"

"Shut up, Oliver," Penelope mumbled.

Marcus picked up a rock and offered it to Avis, whom took in into her hands and happily crunched. This was supposed to be an endearing moment, but Percy thought it was absolutely terrifying.

Percy slouched. "Err..." he received no reply from Marcus, whom seemed to be more invested in poking Avis' stomach to make her laugh. He would attempt to do the same with Audrey, but she'd snap off his arm. "I believe I have about seven months to prepare for my final confrontation with Ares and..."

"Good load of preparing you're doing," Ron mumbled.

"Shut up, Ronald. It's a ploy of tactic that we have lined up and it is dependent on my _mentality_ , which I am currently working on," Percy responded back. He couldn't help but feel his heart sinking into his chest. Oh was he exhausted. He did not want to do this.

Ron stared at Percy with a horrified expression. "So, if you're still bonkers seven months' time then it's like Harry, Hermione and I have not done a thing, and we're all going to die?"

"That sounds about right," Percy replied honestly. "If I am still bonkers a month before, I will give you, Ginny and the twins full permission to attempt to fix my head by whatever method that you may choose."

Ginny nodded her head. "I'm going to bash your head in with a Beater's bat!"

Percy sighed deeply. Why must his family insist on showing him their love in this ludicrous manner?

Marcus offered Avis a small rock. "I'll be there," he didn't really explain why.

"Marcus?" Percy wanted to ask him if he'd written that letter, but he already knew the answer to that just having a look over at Marcus.

Marcus looked up at him, and took his baby— _err_ , child—whichever into his arms and carried her.

"I cannot believe I am saying this in front of others, but... you sent the letter. You attempted to save my life countless of times. I nearly ended yours," Percy summarised the past few years' events in only a few sentences. "And yet you do not loathe me and you are not exactly a close friend with me either. Your best friend probably dreams of murdering me. It's just... the predicament we are in is very confusing."

"I agree with the murder part," Oliver commented, placing his hand into his pockets.

"You forgot I knocked up your girlfriend," Marcus reminded him.

Percy was going to comment on the fact that he knew who Lucy's father was and he thought that that was probably the most poorly constructed joke before he realised what Marcus meant. "Penelope was _never_ my girlfriend!" Penelope's cheeks burned up at his exclamation. What? It was the truth!

Marcus snorted in disbelief. "Aye and Adrian didn't put woodlice in my bed at night."

Percy crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright, back to my original point, which I cannot believe I am saying in front of others and was supposed to be _extremely_ _serious_ and _significant_ ," he emphasised on the last part of his sentence. "Seeing you close to death has sobered me up quite a bit. I used to be ecstatic at the thought of death, but now, the thought of such abhorrent things brings a chill to my spine. When Audrey's just upset me, I've tried to revisit back the memories that used to... _excite_ me. I've looked at my uncles' funeral pictures and pictures of our safe house from before. I felt an unexplainable, shameless terror towards them, where once before I've felt joy at the idea of the war. In short, I... I've come to realise that I am not the monster that Ares had insisted that I was. I did not know it then, but I have not realised that I had this capability to be _just like everyone else._ To be as human as others. Perhaps, one day, it'll be impossible to—"

"Uncle Fabian and Gideon's deaths used to excite you?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. "As in... _Excite_ you?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "I know what you're thinking about and yes, in _both_ those senses, and can we agree not to talk about the _other_ excitement that I know that you are referring to," the last thing he wanted was not only for his family to know that he wanked off to the thoughts of decaying, rotting flesh. "Back to my point— _again_ ," Percy cleared his throat, noticing how everyone was staring over at him like he was going to suddenly implode in some sort of way. Harry, Hermione and Ron had the best facial expressions of the bunch, looking like Percy had just decided to discard his clothing and in the nude. "I am very much like a Lestrange. I enjoy torture and blood, and I will _attempt_ not to give into the urge to destroy the universe, but make no promises that I cannot deliver."

Percy was the six-year-old boy that slept with a nightlight (and the fifteen-year-old boy that slept with a nightlight), and not that twenty-year-old that sung lullabies with the darkness. He was the six-year-old boy that excitedly waited for his father to come home every day, not the eighteen-year-old boy that wished to stab his father when he first saw him... for he had built his 'I am a normal human being—albeit somewhat perfection-driven and dull' mask well. It covered all his flaws. It had become a part of him. It _was_ him.

"Gee thanks, Perce," Ron mumbled. Percy found himself smiling—genuinely smiling. "This is just like you! Harry, Hermione and I save the world, just so you could destroy it!"

Marcus suddenly looked up, like he'd just realised something. "Weasley, have you ever... fantasised about Pucey? And not in the kinky way."

Percy nodded his head. "Yes, I believe that I fantasised about shoving a knife in his back," he cocked his head to one side. "Is this relevant?"

Marcus shrugged. "Thought to mention that you might want to pull Pucey out of a coma."


	56. Chapter 56

_ugh, guys, there's only a few chapters left. it's 58 in total, not including the epilogue! the next one is my favourite! it's absolutely filled with angst._

 _ **inquiries to the last chapter:**_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising:** Percy's mind is truly surprisingly shocking and dark. i loved writing it because i feel like it's a little different than most pro-Percy fanfics, where i can still show that despite him having such dark thoughts, he is still not technically a terrible human being. "It still makes me sad that their friendship fell apart so badly." funny you should mention that given how this chapter is written! i love how you were giving Lucy's father a thought. honestly, i've never really paid attention to it though i am very interested in hearing those analogues. it's meant to come across as coincidental, but honestly, i could've gone with a much wilder route! _

_**FairyRave** **:** the SAT should be banned. i went to an American-based school but am studying in an Irish university and dear God, the SAT is awful. i got the most average mark on it possible. "and the tidbit about Sirius did peek my interest too, I wonder when that's going to come in," unfortunately, i did an Avengers "What Happened in Budapest" thing. it's never going to be mentioned again, but dear God, i'm awful. _

* * *

Chapter Fifty-Six

* * *

December just seemed to go by. The month went by faster than Ginny on her new Firebolt, a gift that she'd gotten from Harry on her seventeenth birthday.

Percy supposed this was attributed to the fact that he'd spent a good three weeks of October attempting to wake Adrian Pucey from a coma that he had unintentionally put him in, but was not sure he entirely wanted to pull him out of.

During the first few days, Miles Bletchley kept on insisting that Terence should give Adrian the kiss of life as that would be sufficient enough to wake him up.

 _"Come to think of it,"_ Miles began to say. It was peculiar to see someone that had been burned to a crumble ( _well, not mum's underdone cherry crumble_ , Percy thought with irritation) model the whole of Madam Malkin's new selection of winter robes... all on top of one another that was. Percy was sure that Miles also had thermal underpants on. _"Bastard's probably never had a snog in his life."_

 _"Of course he's had a snog,"_ Terence mumbled, crossing his arms. _"His mum's snogged him, you know!"_

Percy actually thought that a snog was an adequate measure of waking Adrian up... given that if Terence really did give Adrian a snog, the little lad would suddenly get up and try to cough out the level of toxic smoke that happened to enter his tortured trachea. At this current moment, Terence's snogs could probably bring back the dead. Whether or not it could wake Marcus Flint from his hibernation was debatable.

In fact, Percy was somewhat unsure if he should call the noxious, environmentally hazardous fumes erupting from Terence's mouth as _'bad breath.'_ The ex-Death Eater no longer had a house, family or any money to buy himself the cheapest sausage roll, but somehow had enough to buy himself one of the most deplorable types of alcohol known to mankind and chug it down by the gallons. Percy was sure that nobody should dare light a match around him because Terence was filled with so much flammable liquid that he might just combust!

(Percy was somewhat tempted to light a match around Terence a few times.)

Nearing the end of the month, Miles and Terence had been debating if they could just throw a whole range of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes fireworks into that room to wake Pucey up from his slumber ( _"I am sure that setting off fireworks in a hospital is not the best course of action,"_ Percy stated.) According to Terence, the bloke was scared of practically everything, but he was _particularly_ afraid of loud noises. Percy begged to differ, as he was quite sure that Adrian was more frightened of bad hair than he was of loud noises. The conversation, whilst already disturbing in nature, had become even more troubling when Miles had decided to vibrantly illustrate his sex life by mentioning that if loud noises were something that could wake Adrian up, he would just bring his wife, Mallory, over and bonk her in Adrian's hospital room. Apparently, they were loud enough to wake up the whole of Europe.

After hearing that wonderful tid bit of information, Percy couldn't sleep all night. He was too busy thinking about that one time that he'd accidentally walked in on his parents at it like a couple of rabbits!

On a mildly cold day (freezing for most), Percy walked in the room, only to be brutally attacked by Adrian. He was hugged so tightly that Percy swore he could taste the bile that was coming up his throat. _"I'M SORRY I WAS A BASTARD TO YOU FOR NO REASON FOR TEN YEARS!"_ Percy did not accept his apology because he had lost all ability to hear. He had also probably suffered from a collapsed lung. Percy was set on never forgiving him until Adrian asked, _"Do you have any more of that frozen pumpkin juice?"_

Percy genuinely tried to hold some form of resentment for Adrian, but after the inquiry of frozen lovely jubbly pumpkin juicy wuicy, Percy had decided that Adrian Pucey wasn't that bad after all. There was also the fact that Adrian lost all of his pain and temperature sensation. This was a scintillating thought. Percy was toying with the idea of sticking a tick to Pucey's neck. He wondered how long it would take for Adrian to notice a tick feeding on him.

It was odd. It was like they were trailing off from when they actually had been mates—in first year! Ever since that bastard had woken up, he'd practically spello-taped himself to Percy.

In the mean time, Miles had given Percy a proper briefing on why he was flambéed – apparently, it took him three seconds to remind them of the absolute spell-binding horror he had to go through, _"You know, lads, I don't really remember what's happened. Just that I've woken up looking like my mum's roasted duck."_

Quite a riveting tale Percy had to say. He didn't expect _that_ plot twist at all!

Terence, on the other hand, had reminded them that he'd lost everything every three or so hours.

Adrian took the time to remind him that he could still feel pain so he hadn't lost everything. Terence grinned to that and said, _"Yes, how lucky am I! If a dragon was to breathe a ball of fire on me, I'd feel it!"_

Miles disagreed with this. _"Lad, if a dragon was going to breathe fire on ya, you'd feel pain only momentarily. Then your nerve receptors do die off and then you can't feel pain!"_

Terence seemed agitated by the fact that it seemed like all his mates have lost some of their skin receptors and he hadn't. Percy begged to differ and pointed his finger towards his inflamed, nearly-always-red dodgy leg. He had definitely not lost the any sensation receptors there.

 _"Well, have a dragon breathe fire on it,"_ Miles mentioned. _"That should fix it right up!"_

Percy rolled his eyes when he'd heard that. _"I'm sure that the smoke—that is, from the terrible fire that's practically set you ablaze—has travelled to your brain and killed off any viable neurons. I believe that it has converted you into a pyromaniac that makes less sense than a drunken house-elf."_

Meanwhile, Terence wondered what drunken house-elves were like.

(Percy doubted any house-elf would sink to a low enough level to drink that cheap bollocks Terence called alcohol. Even if Percy was homeless, he'd be too refined to drink that rubbish.)

As the days passed and many mind-boggling conversations were had, the blokes started to gravitate more towards the past. They'd started to ask about Marcus quite often. Terence and Miles were quick to tell Adrian about Penelope Clearwater.

 _"Did he really marry that tight-arsed cow?"_ Adrian wondered.

Percy glared at Adrian. _"You are not allowed to demote Penelope's existence to cattle, and-and just because she does not waste all of her money on liquor like you lot does not mean that she is tight arsed! I'm not sure if you've noticed but she's quite happy to throw all her money away in speciality robes shops!"_ He was sure that this was why people assumed that Percy and Penelope had once been in a relationship.

Percy showed them the most darling photograph of Avis. Then, as Percy suspected, they then proceeded to ruin the moment by mentioning that she seemed to look like one of the creepy antique porcelain dolls that spewed out colourful (and very personalised) insults when one threw them against the wall. Percy remembered those dolls very vividly. The last that Percy played with one had to be when he was five, the doll used to mock him. Every night, it was _"perfect prefect Percy is a pretentious, pathetic prat!"_ Apparently, these dolls were also seers because they'd manage to summarise his past, present and future in one sentence.

(The worst thing was since the lads made the comparison to the porcelain doll that used to give five-year-old Percy nightmares and sweet, beautiful little Avis; Percy started to be able to see the resemblance!)

As suspected, Terence continued to whine about the fact that he was now living in a bench by a pub (and refused to stay with anyone that offered him a place in their home). Percy took the time to remind him that Terence smelled like he lived _in_ the pub—well, actually, he smelled like he lived in a puddle of old man's pub vomit. Percy supposed that he could be more sympathetic but he decided that he best reserve his sympathies for those who showered more than twice a week.

Oh, Percy nearly forgot to mention! For Christmas, Audrey gave Lucy and Percy her flu. Together, with the power of unity, they've managed to spread it to every single person they've seen in the last two weeks!

 _"Percival, this is the worst Christmas I've ever had,"_ Audrey reminded him that night, as they were all huddled up in front of the fireplace, hoping that nobody decided to drop by the Floo network. They were freezing and Percy believed that he probably had malaria. Lucy was huddled up into his arms, and Audrey was pressed up against his shoulder. _"Godric, what if someone visits us? We've nothing made for Christmas dinner."_

Percy only rolled his eyes. _"Audrey... who in their right mind would visit us on Christmas Day?"_

Lucy laughed her little bum off when Charlie and three of his mates walked in, asking what they'd made for Christmas dinner. Audrey had nearly torn Percy's ear off, but had decided against it. It was too much effort, she'd decided. She'd simply punished him by letting him cook for four twenty-six year old lads. That was how Percy managed to nearly set the kitchen on fire on Christmas Day. At ten at night, he'd given up and gone off to the local muggle takeaway and bought back enough fish and chips to feed an oversized family—well, maybe not _his_ family but maybe a family of extremely hungry half-giants. He had also (very elegantly) nearly collapsed outside of the chippy and nearly died but nobody cared.

In Percy's opinion, December was an alright month. It ended with a bit of a bang, as an ecstatic Tarvos found Percy walking around the hospital one day and gave him an embrace that was so suffocating that Percy ended up fainting into Tarvos' arms... and like one would do with the creepy antique dolls, Tarvos thought that giving Percy a good whack against the wall would work on him. It certainly did! When Percy woke up, he started spewing colourful insults towards Tarvos right away!

NOW, January just seemed to run by as well. It surely ran faster than a dishevelled, thirteen-year-old Percy did from his tormentors... whom were once his mates, and now, yet again, were his mates again. He was not. Percy was not sure how this happened, but he just took it as it was. It was, after all, yet another reason why he did not self-harm as much as he used to (though to be fair, he used to practically harm himself the minute that someone left him alone.) Still, his progress was satisfactory enough that Audrey took it as a sign of genuine improvement and a sign that things were actually changing.

 _"You don't look happy when I've said you were improving,"_ Audrey noticed Percy's facial expression.

 _"Well, err... you've to bear with me as I attempt to explain this,"_ Percy cleared his throat. He straightened his spine. _"See, your ease and trust towards the situation makes me feel like I am not ill enough and that my experiences are not as bad as they actually are. At the same time, it also makes me feel quite proud of myself. Also, there is the fact that I still want to die a fiery death but at the same time, I do not want to die. I just want to kill everyone else. Now... am I making the least bit of sense to you?"_

Audrey smiled and wrapped her arms around him. _"Shut up, Percival."_

On a final January note towards the self-harm, Percy had recently discovered that the rubber band method that Audrey had insisted he tried was absolute rubbish! Especially considering that he tended to snap his wrist with the band up to the point where the flaky, abused skin underneath started to bleed. He supposed that that negated the reason why he was using the blasted thing in the first place.

In other _non_ -mental-illness related news, Apollo had been started to owl him nuggets of advice (very cryptic nuggets of advice that was.) Percy enjoyed reading them probably as much as he enjoyed being constipated. Unfortunately, Apollo did not get the memo when Percy sent him a long, well-written letter explaining that Apollo's cryptic messages were absolute rubbish and that if Percy wanted to waste his time, he'd talk to a sphinx or read _The Daily Prophet_. Apollo still insisted on sending him cryptic messages; each letter being so long that Percy had once debated whether or not he should use the blasted thing as toilet paper.

Apollo's most recent 'message' was a three page poem regarding how preserving one's virtue was the key to success in everything in life, leading Percy to conclude that he was almost certain that Apollo thought that he was a virgin and that Audrey was carrying some other tosser's baby... how lovely.

Even the Greek God of healing and music thought that he was a twat.

Instead of properly going through the rubbish Apollo had sent him, Percy chose to waste his time by reading books about various protection charms that one may use when they were, _err... fornicating_...

He wanted to make sure that Audrey did not get knocked up again anytime soon as he did _not_ want to have seven children. Lucy disagreed with this vehemently and had started to shove his books into tight and hard to reach places. She apparently wanted 'a lot' of brothers and sisters.

Well, Percy wanted 'a lot' of pain potions, but they both weren't getting what they wanted!

Audrey had locked the potion cabinet so he would not overdose on any potion. In her words, if his headache was so bad, then he should go have a good wank.

Adrian was helping Percy prepare for his encounter with Ares... by putting flobberworm mush into Percy's hair to treat the 'damaged' dull red curls overnight. He had insisted that Percy start this regimen and stay consistent with it because his father was already showing signs of balding.

 _" That's how you're preparing for this?"_ Ron had said when he'd happened to visit the flat and seen Pucey fluffing Percy's curls. To this date, Percy had no idea what Adrian referred to when he said that he wanted to fluff Percy's curls. _"For Merlin's sake, Perce, you're not saying yes, are you? Sprucing up for the Greek God of war! You're already having a bloody baby with someone else!"_

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny have been irritating Percy. They insisted on attempting to help him, but Percy was not sure how many times he could say that he did not need any help. Ron's form of help was dropping by every now and then to remind him that putting people through the Cruciatus curse was a bad thing and that it was not normal to jack off to funeral images. Percy would continue to remind him that he did not want anyone to comment on the things that arouse him, especially not his little brother.

On the third of January, Percy had decided to go to the Burrow for supper. The minute he'd come in, he saw Oliver Wood swooping into the living room, carrying his father's suitcase. He trudged upstairs with as much energy as a baby owl on steroidal potions.

Percy loathed energetic people. They made him feel like a pile of unproductive bones.

Percy simply stared over at the lad as he ran up the stairs. He was hoping that Oliver would trip on the stairs, fall on his back and get an injury that would prevent him from continuing with his brimming Quidditch career. He then remembered that his epilepsy might make that abhorrent thought a probability and then forced himself to think of good things about Oliver, such as the fact that...

Well, Oliver was an Animagus. He was a dog. Dogs were loyal and adorable... and they thought that sinking their teeth into the palm of your hand was 'playing.' And if they gave you a really good bite, they could give you rabies... _and then you can die within the next few weeks in a rather violent death..._

During dinner, Oliver actually helped the process by deciding to mention to everyone that he had failed his Charms, Potions and Transfiguration O.W.L's. Percy supposed he had relaxed then, knowing that the person that he was envious of was a complete failure in life.

(Yes, Percy was _not_ in a good mood on the third of January. His mum had promised to make him custard buns, but she did not. Percy was really looking forward to biting into her freshly baked rolls and feeling that cold custard contrast with the soft warm bun outside. He would not feel that happiness now. Thus, it was _not_ Percy's fault that he wanted to burn every house in Devon to the ground with nothing more than his small piece of wire and a lightning bolt.)

(He attempted to not think of burning houses. He did not want to be responsible for the fact that the Burrow might spontaneously catch fire.)

On the fifth, he had realised what a nice smile Oliver had. This was making not hating Oliver a very difficult thing for Percy to do, especially given the fact that Oliver pinned badly worded death threats to the shed, warning Percy not to eat any of his jam roly-poly.

Percy replied by telling him that roly pollies, not only referred to the British dessert, but also referred to arthropods that curled themselves into a ball (roly pollies were also called pill bugs). Percy may have pinned multiple images of roly pollies (or pill bugs) mating to Oliver's door and no, it was not a childish thing to do. He was simply educating Oliver after all!

 _"A few days ago, I've made a jam roly-poly for Oliver and he hasn't had a single bite of it!"_ Molly sounded worried. _"That's quite odd, don't you think?"_

 _"Quite,"_ Percy nodded his head. _"Something must've been bugging him."_

(He could not stop thinking of fire for the past two days that he'd been in the Burrow. Thankfully, only his pillow had caught fire and nobody had gotten hurt.)

(Also, he no longer had a bed. Just a pillow and about three thousand blankets that his mum had made especially for him. _"Don't you eve dare say that I'm just trying to deal with you! I love you, Percival! Godric, you're pale... what have you had today? Certainly not enough if you look this pale. Doesn't he look pale, Arthur?"_ she was frantic about him. He... he felt quite happy about it.)

Percy returned back to Audrey's flat on the eleventh. The first thing that Audrey had done when he'd walked inside was yell at him because... well, he wasn't exactly sure why she was yelling at him but he was sure that he'd done something abhorrent and idiotic but just could not remember it. Lucy was angry because she wanted Percy to have brought her back some sweeties.

Thus, Percy had decided, within five minutes of coming back to the flat, that he'd _really_ missed them when he'd been away.

FEBRUARY just seemed to go by. The month just disappeared quicker than Percy's dignity did when a six-month-pregnant Audrey had decided to have sex with him in public (and subsequently, getting caught doing so in public and having to be bailed out by a fairly amused Ron—whom Percy had to pay so that he wouldn't tell anyone else about this calamity.) It didn't help because everyone found out eventually and Terence, Adrian and Miles were taking the mickey out of him for a week afterwards, and Audrey? Well, her sex drive was still impossible. Percy wasn't sure how one attained a penile fracture but with how she was going at it, he wouldn't be surprised if one day, _she'd just break the bloody thing!_

"Penelope and Marcus are coming home today," a happy Audrey with a big, happy belly (that Percy could gape at for hours) reminded him on the eighteenth of February.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and then pulled herself close to him. She was looking at him with a kind of affection that made his heart race.

"You haven't harmed yourself in weeks," she was staring over at his arms.

He'd been using tins and tins of Paisley and Holland's Extremely Effective Scar Remover to clear the congealed bloody mess he had before. Fortunately, most of his scars had faded. He didn't believe that rubbish about time healing all wounds and frankly, he was too impatient. Apparently, he was 'lucky', because the woman at the cash register said that it was wouldn't have been possible to fix what he'd done to himself. Well, the woman hadn't taken into account that since he'd been living with Audrey, everything that he once thought was impossible had simply just become 'difficult' and 'unlikely'—such as the fact that it was unlikely that he would ever see himself as more than a glorified horklump. Unlikely, but not impossible.

Percy stared back at her. He was in awe of her. "Well, I _did_ burn my tongue on a cuppa last night."

"Well, then I might have to leave you for that one," Audrey said, moving her hand from his shoulder right to his cheek. She enclosed whatever gap was between them.

"I believe it's only fair," Percy was not even sure how he was speaking. Her eyes were just...

"Do you have to do this _EVERY_ morning?" an irritated eight-year-old Lucy walked into the room. She was in her purple pyjamas that Percy had bought her (he was shameful to admit he was wearing, too, was wearing purple pyjamas.) Her glasses were sliding up her nose, and it prompted Percy to push _his_ glasses up, nearly pushing his glasses into his corneas in the process. "I understand! You like each other! You like each other so much you two are content with looking at each other for the rest of your lives and you can! I don't mind but- _BUT NOT BEFORE YOU MAKE ME BREAKFAST!"_

"Content," Audrey reiterated the word Lucy insisted on using.

"Think you've used the word a few times," Percy nodded off towards Audrey.

Audrey's cheeks coloured in and a smile found its way to her lips. "I'm sure I did."

 _"YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN!"_ Lucy exclaimed, standing up from the chair and trying to push Percy away from her mother. She was staring at the empty table and groaned. "Now, what's for breakfast? I'm starving!"

Audrey disappeared to her muggle macrowave. Percy was not quite sure how Audrey was so efficient in using these contraptions. He did like the fact that he snuggled up to a muggle fairytale every night with Lucy on Audrey's command. It was nice to read something completely unfamiliar every day. Audrey tapped onto the machine, and suddenly, it came to life. Percy shuddered and looked away. He did not trust these-these monstrosities. What if this macrowave just... exploded? Audrey did mention that this was a wizarding version of a muggle product because it did not run on-on... _eckeltricity!_

Audrey pushed a plate of waffles towards Lucy, whom looked unhappy with this. Perhaps, it was the fact that it looked to be studded with owl treats and seeds. The strawberry jam was thick and gelatinous.

"Audrey, I know that I'm always short of a few sickles, but don't you think it's a bit cruel to feed our daughter owl treats?" Percy had mentally kicked himself for calling Lucy _their_ daughter... it wasn't his fault that the girl looked so much like him that a drunken Bill confused her for an eight-year-old Percy.

Audrey glared at him. "I am not feeding Lucy owl treats!" she exclaimed. "They're _dates_."

"Lucy is too young to be frolicking with men," Percy mumbled, before he realised that she meant the fruit and he flushed. He cleared his throat. It was nearing seven and he really had to dash. "Audrey, there's something I've been meaning to tell you all week, but you know, something's always come up, like on Saturday, where I wanted to tell you something and you decided that you were... err... _excited_."

Audrey nodded her head.

"And on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday when you've decided that you were... _excited_ ," Percy reminded her, only for her to nod her head again. "Well, that thing I wanted to tell you is that in approximately ten minutes, I have to leave because I've snagged myself a job! At the Ministry!"

Audrey should really close her mouth before she caught a couple of glumbumbles.

"Percy," she sounded surprised. "Percy, you're an _epileptic_."

"Yes, I know—" Percy was cut off.

Audrey shook her head in disbelief. "You haven't even finished your schooling."

"That's not fair! I was busy being tortured!" Percy crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. He flushed when he realised that he was not supposed to talk about his endless turmoil in front of his eight-year-old child, whom was... first of all, not actually his child and was busy poking Audrey's homemade strawberry jam with her spoon just to watch it wiggle around. "I mean..." his cheeks coloured in.

Percy swallowed a lump in his throat. "You see, I may have... _accidentally_... saved the Minister's life."

Audrey rolled her eyes. "You've saved the Minister's life?"

"It was on _The Daily Prophet_ on Sunday!" Percy tried to argue. They only brought the paper so that Lucy could use it for her scrapbooking. She liked to cut the newspaper into small little animals and glue them. He was sure somewhere in her scrapbook, there was a poorly constructed elephant with the headlines: _TWAT SAVES MINISTER FROM IMPENDING DOOM_. "I don't just annihilate things you know—and by annihilate; I mean to say that I obliterate things in a completely orderly and organised fashion."

Audrey shook her head. "I cannot believe you," she leaned against the counter.

"I can't believe this breakfast," Lucy mumbled, still picking at her strawberries.

 _"EAT IT, YOU LITTLE TWAT! IT'S GOOD FOR YOU!"_ Audrey exclaimed. Lucy hadn't even flinched. She was busy groaning about the size of the strawberries. Percy wouldn't blame her. He'd never seen a strawberry that was bigger than Audrey's bosom. She turned to Percy. "AND _YOU!_ There is _NOT ONE TIME_ in my life that I do not regret having you around me! You're a selfish bastard! I can't believe you-you saved the Minister and got a job! How _dare_ you!"

Percy was not sure why Audrey was mad at the moment. "Love, I'm sure there was something you've been meaning to tell me but haven't told me due to... how excited you are."

"There is nothing that I've not told you!" Audrey exclaimed, still looking angry and then her face dissolved. "Well, perhaps, there is this one _small_ thing..."

Percy did not get to ask what she meant before the door to her flat was suddenly smashed in. Nine happy black-haired women walked inside; followed by an ecstatic Miles Bletchley practically tied to one of them. Terence followed in, carrying a flash of what Percy immediately deduced to be cheap liquor. An angry Oliver Wood followed in, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I might be throwing a party today since Marcus and Penelope are coming back and it's Marcus' birthday too," Audrey suddenly chirped.

Percy blinked and stared at the catastrophe that was forming before him. "Audrey, I'm going to work."

"I know," Audrey replied.

Percy fixed the tie that he was wearing and turned to go to his room to put on his wrinkle-free Ministry robes. "I might not come back home. Not ever."

Audrey nodded her head. "I know."

OLIVER Wood was sitting on the couch. It was nearly three o'clock. He'd had nothing to eat, and was feeling rather nauseous. He couldn't stop thinking about Marcus right now—actually, he couldn't stop thinking about Marcus ever since he'd left England. Considering today was the lad's twenty-third birthday, Oliver had gotten him a Falmouth Falcons shirt that was officially signed by one of the better known Beaters. He loathed that team, but he thought that he could do this one little thing for his mate.

He couldn't even properly revel in the most recent victory he had: he absolutely smashed it in last game when he'd taken up the old Keeper's spot, so much so that they'd decided to take him off the reserve team and put him on the actual team.

He was supposed to be bloody ecstatic, but he had been so depressed. The one person that he had to share his excitement with was going on long early morning boat rides in Thailand with his wife and child.

Godric, he'd been _so lonely_ without Marcus around.

Oliver had tried to go out with other people, but he felt even lonelier than ever with them around. He feigned smiles and beams, but nobody could see how truly upset he was.

He'd even cried himself to sleep a few times at night.

He hadn't been separated from Marcus this long since they'd decided to be mates. That was nearly eight years ago! Whatever rows they had were resolved in less than half a day and they were back to talking to each other again... oh, how he could talk to Marcus for _hours_. He couldn't even talk to any of the Weasley's for three minutes without feeling like the conversation was going on forever (how could they spend six hours talking about _Harry?_ He liked Harry, but the poor bloke couldn't even go to the lav without someone commenting on it!) He tried. _He really tried_. He'd probably gone out with both the reserve and the actual team about ten different times just to try and ease into the whole thing and he just felt worse than he did when he was sitting at home, sulking by himself. It didn't help that everything he bloody did reminded him of Marcus. He had stacks of dark chocolate frogs stashed in a box under his bed that he'd started to collect for the little lad so that he'd have something to nosh on when he'd come home. They were the limited edition kind that had small bits of fruit and nuts in them. Oliver smiled when he thought about how much Marcus would love them! He'd especially like the one with tiny peach bits and pecans.

Merlin, this was pathetic. _Oliver_ was pathetic. He couldn't even wish for Marcus to have a bloody awful time, because he genuinely hated the bloke to be sad. He was honestly hoping that Marcus had a marvellous time. He just hated that it had to be with _her_. She'd-she'd bloody stolen _his_ idea! They were supposed to travel—

Hearing the doorbell ring was enough to pull Oliver out of couch. He'd probably run over there faster than the Quaffle went through the hoop during yesterday's practice (yes, it was an awful practice. Yes, he'd mucked up and yes, they were threatening to replace him.) For once, he was not dressed in his Puddlemere United robes for once, and had insisted on wearing a thick jumper and dark trousers. Oliver could barely recognise himself in the mirror without his usual attire.

He opened the door with a beam on his face. It disappeared when he noticed Penelope holding Avis into her arms. Great... the overcooked tart was here!

"Where's Marcus?" Oliver asked. Yes, he was irritated.

"He's at the flat, changing his clothes," Penelope answered before she walked inside. Oliver thought that this was rubbish, but realised that the little lad must be cold. It was freezing outside and last owl he'd received, they were in some sort of awfully hot climate. She grinned over at Audrey. "Marcus and I had a brilliant time together! It's really brought us closer... we might even do it again in a few years time. We nearly missed our Portkey a couple of times, but we made it there in the end! I have so many photographs to show you! Where's Percy right now?"

"He's at work," Audrey replied, and immediately, Penelope stared at her with incredulity. "He saved the Minister from some doom—I've to read the Sunday Prophet—and now, he's got a job at the Ministry."

Penelope just shook her head, digesting the information.

Oliver's heart raced into his chest when he heard another knock on the door. He turned to open the door and was taken back. He shifted uncomfortably in his position. Wait, were those _cheeks_ he had? Impossible!

Oliver's eyes drifted down to Marcus' clothes—oh, those black trousers and white shirt. He looked like a schoolboy. The worst thing was he couldn't even blame Penelope. If Marcus wasn't wearing robes, he was wearing a black-and-white ensemble like this one. It looked ridiculous. There were quite a few times he'd even decided to put on a sweater vest on to fully complete the look of a lad whose mum had dressed him up. Honestly, given that he'd actually met Viola, Oliver was partially sure she actually still dressed him up!

Marcus beamed over at Oliver. Well, his tooth was still missing. "Where's my birthday cake, Wood?" he asked. "I want to blow up candles."

"Blow _out_ ," Penelope corrected in irritation.

Marcus smirked and shook his head. "Blow _up_."

Oliver was trying to digest what was in front of him. "Your clothes..." he sounded surprised. "They _fit_ you!"

"I know!" Penelope looked smug, shaking her head. "Marcus, did you get Avis' bottle?"

"Of course not," Marcus replied, putting his hands into her pocket as Avis walked over to him, and grabbed one of his legs. She stared up at him with big, blue eyes.

Oliver was eyeing up Marcus, still trying to digest the bigger picture. "You... you've put on weight!"

"Yes, he eats three times a day instead of three times a week now! With _snacks_! Isn't that right, Marcus?" Penelope said, watching him sit down on the couch before he picked up his daughter from the ground and placed her onto his lap. "If his mother says something about this, I'm going to kill her."

Marcus stiffened up and pulled his legs up against the couch. He looked so unsure of himself that it actually made Oliver's chest tighten up.

That was _one thing_ that Oliver and Penelope seemed to agree on. Viola Flint was a right cow, she was!

"Well, I've the cake ready if anyone wants to have a..." Audrey paled dramatically, and bit down her lower lip. Oliver's heart started to thud, seeing her in distress. He didn't hate Audrey. In fact, he actually liked her. There was something about her that reminded him of Molly. "I think my water's just broke."

PERCY cocked his head to one side. "Minister Shacklebolt, the whole Ministry is in shambles. Everyone is having trouble reorganising all the disordered documentation. There is a thorough routine background check that has to be done on every Ministry employee that is estimated to take five months and three weeks to complete. Half of the employees had to be fired due to their affiliation with You-Know-Who. The building is so overworked that nobody has, thus far, stopped to say hello—except for you, of course and I have finished the miniscule amount of work that you have set out for me to do as your personal assistant."

"What's the problem then?" Kingsley hadn't even looked up from the letter that he was reading.

Percy took a deep breath. "Don't you think that you want me involved in helping in any of these affairs? Given the fact that, as I've said before, I've finished all the work you've set out for me... in the first ten minutes of my arrival, and you've gotten so tired of staring at my face for the past hour that you've told me to get your robes from Madam Malkin's."

"Did you get my robes?" Kingsley asked, looking up from the paper with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, I have but that's not the point, Minister," Percy's cheeks coloured in. "I was asking if I can pop down to the department just below and help them with their proceedings. They seem to be... rather stressed."

"I'll call up someone to take you down to the—" Kingsley was cut off when a stressed out looking Penelope ran into the office. She obviously did not have an appointment with the Minister, like Percy did. Well, he was the one that scheduled the Minister's appointments, so he would know. Yes, he had to schedule an appointment for himself.

"Percy!" she exclaimed, running up to him and wrapping her arms around him. "Your wife is giving birth."

"I've not married to her yet," Percy corrected before he digested what Penelope was telling him and paled dramatically. He felt rather ill as the reality of the situation dawned on him. "Penelope, she's only just six months in! She's not even in her twenty-fifth week yet!"

"I know, Percy," Penelope's eyes were big and wide. "We have to go... it's lovely to meet you, Mr Minister! I'm sorry that it had to be under these circumstances! I've heard that Percy saved your life! Err... that'll be an interesting story to tell the wife, isn't it?"

"He's not married either," Percy replied automatically.

Penelope suddenly walked up to Kingsley's desk. "Mr Minister, how come St Mungo's receives so little of the government's money? And how come I'm paid so little in comparison to other hospitals in Europe—"

 _"PENNY, LEAVE THE MINISTER ALONE!"_ Percy screeched. Kingsley didn't seem at all entertained by this. He grabbed her and guided her to the door, offering a weak smile towards the Minister. "Do you need me to pick up anymore robes whilst I'm out, Mr Minister?"


	57. Chapter 57

_this was one of the most emotive chapters i've had to write. and i absolutely love it. it's probably my favourite chapter in this whole fanfic. i am sad about a lot of parts of this story. i wish i could re-write so much of it (partly because so much of it could've gone differently and better and partly because the writer is their own worst critic! at least i believe that's the case for me), but alas, this story has been in progress for about a year and some more now! after this, there is one more chapter and then epilogue! then this story is done!_

 _ **review reply:**_

 _ **FairyRave** **:** i'm so excited now that it's nearing the end. all i can say is that... Percy doesn't die. which i think is a big fear that people had in the beginning of this story because i tend to kill characters. a lot. _

_**Phoenixx Rising** **:** "Well, I take it Percy was either in quite a bit of shock or he is a huge idiot." both are plausible. i love reading that comment. i keep grinning and rereading it! it's wonderful. as for Audrey, i'm sure she has her reasons. probably hormonal based and probably the fact that Lucy is a little troublemaker. and probably because by my cultural standpoint, it's perfectly fine (though my culture is a bit more aggressive than most!) _

* * *

Chapter Fifty-Seven

* * *

 _"WHAT HAPPENED?!"_ Bill shouted, storming towards a colourless, terrified Percy, sitting alone in the St Mungo's waiting area. "I visit the Burrow, take Ginny out of the house for a little Quidditch and upon taking her back; I am subjected to a drunken _Adrian Pucey_ telling me that you and Audrey are in the hospital! And best of all, _he'd forgotten why you were there in the first place!_ "

He laughed. It was vapid and uninspired. "Godric, I'm _almost_ sorry for you, you bastard! You're glad I found you before the rest of the family did! Mum is going to dismember you because neither of you bothered to send any of us an owl about it!"

Bill was fuming to say the least.

 _"WE THOUGHT YOU'VE ACTUALLY MANAGED TO KILL YOURSELF, YOU SELFISH GIT!"_

Percy looked down at his feet. He blinked away the few tears that had formed in his eyes.

A while ago, Penelope left to go get them the two or three sleepsuits that Audrey bought for the baby a couple of weeks ago. She had also said she'd do a quick shop for bottles, as she felt Percy would not be able to accept her second hand bottles due to his issues with contamination... He honestly couldn't care less. He still didn't know if his child was _alive_ for Merlin's sake. Why would he care about a stupid bottle?

"Well, as you can see, I am alive," Percy's throat ached. "You shouldn't have troubled yourselves."

Half an hour ago, they took Audrey to the operating theatre. That was _not_ a good sign. If it could not be dealt with magic, it was never a good sign. Percy could barely breathe.

"No, _don't trouble yourself, Bill!_ Three months ago, I was fantasising about killing myself and today, you received news that Audrey and I are in the hospital! You're totally overreacting, believing that I'd done myself in!" Bill mocked. " _Don't worry!_ Well, I'm—"

 _"WELL, I'M ALIVE AND WELL, AREN'T I?!"_ Percy snapped; his eyes glossy as tears fell from his eyes.

He still hadn't gotten used to seeing Bill's scarred, mutilated face. He didn't think he ever would.

"Why do you have to be like _this?_ " Bill's voice was weak and wobbly. "Godric, I thought you were dead."

"Well, I'm alive. I'm alive. _Unfortunately, I'm bloody alive!"_ Percy shook his head, tears falling down faster than usual as Bill crouched down to Percy's eyelevel and wrapped his arms around him. "Nothing's wrong with me, you long-haired, alcohol-obsessed fool! _It's AUDREY!_ "

Percy clung onto Bill as hard as he could. He felt like he was going to topple over. "It's Audrey..."

He hadn't even gotten a proper look at her when they decided to take her away. Percy tried to keep himself from breaking down because Lucy was with him. Fortunately, Marcus apparated her back to the flat and was watching her now. It was for the best, because Percy couldn't bring himself to look down at that sweet red-headed girl, who had started to cry and sob and curse the bloody world and everything in it. What was he supposed to say? How could he comfort her? How could he be strong when he was _so bloody weak?_

"She went into labour and-and they've taken her into the _operating theatre_. I'm sure they're going to cut her up since that's what they tend to do in operating theatres!" Percy was in hysterics. "And-and... Godric, Audrey isn't even in her twenty-fifth week. The nurses told me that the baby's got a twenty percent chance of making it out alive and - _and_ _Audrey!_ They wouldn't tell me anything about her, they just told me she was fine and that was that! Oh, yes, she's fine! She's absolutely fine! _WELL,_ _IF SHE'S SO BLOODY FINE, THEN WHY WAS SHE RUSHED OFF TO THE OPERATING THEATRE?!"_

Percy was panting, clinging onto Bill, who flinched when he yelled. " _I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't_ —"

Bill was shaking Percy by his shoulders, trying to bring him back to reality.

"Percy, you're acting like a complete and utter lunatic!" Bill told him. "Even more so than usual!"

"I...I-..." Percy was lost for words. "They'll take my baby away from me, Bill. I know that they will. They'll bloody take it away and I'm never going to see it and it's never going to see me!"

Bill shook his head. "Like hell, they would! They'd have to pry it away from your dead body if you thought for a second that they can take your own baby away from you—"

"No, they're going to take it away," Percy said in certainty, his heart pounding in his chest. There were black dots starting to form in his vision as his head pounded with the same intensity as his heart. "They're going to take my child away and I'm never going to see it and Lucy they're going to take her away and Audrey they're going to take her away _and I'm going to be alone and-and-and_ —"

His chest was tightening. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

 _"BillIcan'tbreathe,"_ Percy wasn't even sure how he managed to get the words out.

"You need to calm down, Perce," Bill warned in a low voice. "You just need to calm down."

Percy shook his head and let out a choked sob.

Out of the corner of his eye, Percy noticed others coming this way. Adrian was laughing— _the sloshed bastard. Percy was going to kill him_. Molly was fuming. The rest had expressions of either confusion or worry.

Fortunately, he was too busy panicking about the fact that he was going to sleep in a bed alone tonight to panic about the fact that his family hated him.

"Hello, everyone! How are you? Doing well, I hope! Lovely weather out!" Bill tried to lighten the situation.

"Yes, absolutely lovely weather," Molly's tone was colder than the weather which was absolute bollocks.

Bill swallowed a lump that was in his throat, " _Mum, I'm taking Percy down to get a coffee!"_

"Like hell you are!" Molly exclaimed. "Percival Ignatius Weasley. For weeks, you do not—"

"Mum, Audrey's in the operating theatre. She went through labour but I think they had to cut her open like muggles do," Bill suddenly cut her off, trying to explain the situation. Percy was glad. He was not sure if he could explain it again without having a mental breakdown for ages. "He couldn't have written an owl to tell you that he'd gone to the hospital. Godric, I'm sure he doesn't even know what time it is, he's in some kind of warped, convoluted la-la land where everything is somehow his fault."

No, Percy did not know what time it was. And yes, everything was somehow his fault.

Molly nodded her head. The hardness in her face melted. "You... y-you two go get a coffee then."

"I don't want a bloody coffee," Percy complained. "I want to go see Audrey." He just wanted to go home and sleep next to her... _because this wasn't supposed to happen today. Today was supposed to be a good day._

"Come on, Perce," Bill tried to encourage him. "We'll go get a coffee and then we'll see her, alright?"

Percy didn't say anything, because he was certain that if he spoke, he'd have told Bill to go fuck himself.

WALKING to the canteen, Bill was searching for the few spare sickles that he always kept jammed in his pockets. Meanwhile, Percy was trying not to collapse into a pathetic, pitiful heap on the ground and sob until he hacked up his own lungs. Neither was doing well on either front.

As Percy blinked away tears, he pulled out a few sickles from his pocket as they approached the coffee counter. Bill blushed and then offered a weak smile to Percy.

Suddenly, he felt a hulking presence behind him. He ignored it as he handed Bill his cup whilst taking his own. If it was the Grim Reaper ready to take their unsuspecting souls to the bowels of hell, then Percy could blame it on the fact that getting coffee was Bill's idea.

"Piercey sister is very pretty!" Tarvos' voice sounded out, almost making Percy's heart stop.

He was sure that Tarvos had a Percy detector stapled somewhere in his muscular frame because he always seemed to know where to conveniently run into him.

"Piercey?" Bill raised an eyebrow. "Who's Piercey? And who in Merlin's name is his sister?"

"I am _Piercey_ ," Percy said. He found himself _actually_ smiling. "And I believe you are my sister."

 _"I am not your sister!"_ Bill yelled.

Percy's smile widened. A warmth found its way to his belly and he somewhat found himself actually looking forward to his coffee. The first few sips of the warm beige substance managed to soothe him.

 _"TARVOS WAS LOOKING FOR PEIRCEY FOR WEEKS!"_ Tarvos exclaimed. "Tarvos find old picture!"

Tarvos shoved a wizarding photograph to Bill, nearly knocking over the cup of coffee that he was holding. Percy had to admit the half-breed's enthusiasm was contagious, because he was beaming ear-to-ear and he wasn't even sure why.

Bill looked down at the photograph and found himself smiling silly.

"That better not be the photograph of me in the lavatory," Percy mumbled, cheeks colouring in at the memory. Tarvos _really_ tended to show up at the most unexpected places.

"Piercey sister go out with Tarvos?" Tarvos smacked Bill on the back.

"My name is _Bill_ and I'm his _brother_!" Bill exclaimed, rubbing his back. Percy was full on laughing right now. Bill actually _jumped_ when Percy started to laugh because it was so unexpected.

 _"Bill?"_ Tarvos' voice echoed off the walls. He repeated it under his breath a few times before he ran off.

Percy took a look over at the picture that Tarvos had given Bill. Old picture? It was ancient!

In that photograph stood a fifteen-year-old Percy wearing a pale button-down and grey trousers, looking incredibly annoyed but still attempting to feign a smile. Beside him was a happy Tarvos, who had his hand placed on Percy's shoulder. Percy's smile disappeared in the moment he saw his annoyance. If he recalled correctly, it was because Tarvos' hold had become tighter and Percy believed that the bloke accidentally broke his shoulder joint.

"Do you remember the last photo we took before you got sent off to the ward?" Bill suddenly reminisced. "You were fourteen, but you were limping in that photo. You were stood there in your ugly old man overalls and a smug look on your face. You'd buttoned the shirt you were wearing all the way to the top... Godric, we thought you weren't getting enough blood supply to your big fat head at some point! And people! They used to mistake you for our father! At fourteen, you've managed to pass off for _forty_!"

"How lovely," Percy mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee—which was now cold. He had to admit that seeing Tarvos today really brought a smile to his face. "At least nobody's mistaken me for a woman."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Percy, Audrey's written an owl earlier on. It said something about you being at _work_?"

Percy sighed deeply. Not this again. "Yes, I've saved the Minister and he offered me a job as his assistant. It was on _The Daily Prophet_ on Sunday for Merlin's sake!"

Bill cocked an eyebrow. "The Daily Prophet comes out on Sundays?"

"Of course it does! It's called The _Daily_ Prophet!" Percy argued.

Bill shook his head in disbelief. "How in Merlin's name did you save his life exactly? Saved him from making a spelling mistake, did you?"

"That is _not_ funny," Percy placed his coffee on a nearby table and crossed his arms over his chest. "You see, he was just frolicking about Diagon Alley, about to eat one of the Honeydukes chocolate samples in one of the street vendors... so I walked up to him and warned him not to, because I was fairly certain that it was poisoned. I had no proof that it was, I was just fairly certain of it. The minister was amused by it, and decided to perform a poison checking spell whilst lecturing me about how every poison left a trace! Needless to say, _I_ was right. Thus, after bombarding me with endless jokes about the fact that he nearly got his _sweet demise_ , he offered me a job! He said that what I did was more impressive than any CV that he'd gotten through the mail!"

"So, you saved the Minister from dying from a bad Valentine?" Bill grinned. Suddenly, Tarvos came back and wedged himself between them and shoved a stalk of papers towards Bill.

 _"Tarvos bring Bill!"_ he exclaimed as he waved around hospital bills all over the place.

MOLLY came over and stared over at Percy with a soft expression. "Percy," she reached over to rub his cheek. He'd put on so much weight recently. He looked like his old self again. "You can go see Audrey now."

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head. "Are you going to come with?"

"Do you want me to?" she asked, only for him to nod his head. It irritated her that she felt good that he said that he needed her. It really shouldn't matter right now.

Percy slowly followed his mum into the hospital room. He looked apprehensive and Molly, herself, was _terrified!_ She couldn't do this either. She didn't know how to deal with this. She had never lost any of her children and had never delivered so early on that losing them was even a possibility. Molly walked into the room and saw Audrey huddled up in the hospital cot. She looked absolutely exhausted. Her long brown hair was in complete disarray and her honey brown eyes were looking up at Percy with weariness. She smiled when she saw him and a glossiness found its way to her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Molly asked, moving closer to her.

Audrey didn't answer.

"How are you feeling?" Percy repeated Molly's question for her, as he ran his hand through her haphazard brown hair. Her smile widened, but it didn't look to be a very happy smile.

Audrey opened her mouth to answer his question, but... she couldn't. She looked down at her deflated belly.

"You left your first day of work to come and see me?" Audrey asked.

Percy stared at her like she'd gone mad. "Yes and I completely regret it," he rolled his eyes. "I should've stayed in the office and let you suffer by yourself."

Molly would've normally launched into questions about what kind of work, and how in Merlin's name had he managed to get a job with his non-existent CV. Instead, she just stood staring vacantly at them. She wished she had something purposeful to say. In fact, she wished she had _anything_ to say.

Audrey placed a hand on his cheek, stroking it gently.

"It was a girl, Percy," she suddenly said. She wasn't smiling anymore. She was grinning and tears were running down her cheeks. "They had to take her away. She was so little. She was a third of the size of Lucy and she... she could breathe but just barely. They've taken her away to a special unit so that they could give her the oxygen and... she...she... _SHE_..."

Audrey's lip was trembling and her grin widened. "It's brilliant, isn't it? Absolutely cosmic!"

Molly felt like she shouldn't be there, but her feet were planted onto the ground. She watched Percy slide on the bed and wrap his arms around Audrey, pulling her close to his frame.

"They've taken her away and she's going to die alone and-and you're never going to see her!" Audrey exclaimed. She looked so scared. "How is that fair? How is that—?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Percy cut her off, shaking his head. He pulled her even closer to him and buried his head in her hair. He looked over at Molly and gestured for the bottle of water sat on one of the chairs.

Audrey let out a few whimpers and sobs. Molly's heart sunk into her chest. "How is it fair?"

"It's fair because I won't let them," Percy attempted to console her. "I won't let them take her away."

Molly was not sure that he should be making promises that were impossible for him to keep.

"You can't," Audrey suddenly cried, tears falling down at an even faster rate. She clung onto him for dear life. "You can't bring her back. You can't. You can't make that promise, Percy. _You can't_."

"I believe I just did," Percy said with smile, running his hand through her hair once more. Molly offered him the water bottle that he'd asked for what felt like ten minutes ago. He put it aside. "Thank you."

Molly was certain that the only reason Percy made her go get the sodding bottle was so she wouldn't feel useless standing there, watching a trembling, terrified Audrey have a complete breakdown after the hell she went through in the last few hours.

Molly didn't even want to think about what she was going through... what _they_ were going through.

"She was trying _so hard_ to breathe," she shook her head in disbelief. _"So hard."_

Percy was trembling, but he managed to compose himself.

"I just... I want to look at her," Audrey suddenly said. "I want to see her and I can't— _PERCY?!"_

Percy stood up from where he was sitting and immediately fell to the ground. Molly didn't even have to ask what happened because his hands had drifted to his dodgy leg.

"I'm alright, Audrey. I'm alright," Percy assured her. "I just... can't quite get up at the moment."

THE silence was overwhelming. Every minute that passed felt like an hour. Every hour felt like an eternity.

Molly wondered when someone would barge in, announcing the fact that _she_ was gone.

For the next couple of hours, Percy attempted to get up several times, and Bill tried to help him, but it was no use, because he collapsed whenever Bill let go of him. This scared her. It felt like Percy was slowly losing the ability to walk completely.

He continued to try and try and _try_... and it wasn't until the third hour that Percy actually managed to get up.

By the time that he'd properly stood up, he looked like he wanted to do nothing more than to sit back down again. He looked absolutely knackered, but he'd decided to go off with a tired Ginny to go Godric-knew-where to do Merlin-knew-what. This left Molly alone to...

Wait and wait. And wait again.

How long had it been since Percy left? Honestly, Molly didn't know. He'd just gone off with Ginny and left her in this— _this_...

What were they doing? She didn't know, but she had her guesses.

She believed that they were going to go check up on the little thing, or maybe they were getting a coffee like Bill and Percy had a while ago. Or maybe they were... _she didn't really know._

She should've bloody asked.

Since then, Molly had devoted her time to watching Audrey sleep. She was fidgeting and twitching about. Right now, Molly seemed to ignore their age difference. Seeing Audrey so vulnerable made her realise how scared she was... how young she was.

Molly had Arthur sitting beside her, holding her. He must've said a few words in the past few hours, but she couldn't remember any of them. She looked around the room. The rest of her family were all sat in ancient chairs, shifting in them uncomfortably. This was probably the longest the twins had gone without attempting to pull some sort of prank on someone. She wished they would. She wished they'd do anything.

She wished someone would do or say _something_ , because this silence was deafening.

"Audrey," Percy's voice broke Molly out of her reverie. She didn't know if he'd been standing by the doorway for some time, or if he was not. She looked up to see that he had a small little unmoving blanketed bundle in his arms. "Audrey," he called out a little louder.

She opened her eyes almost immediately. She looked even more worn out than she was before she fell asleep.

Percy sat on the side of the bed, offering the baby to a keen Audrey.

"We went to have a look at her," Percy tried to explain. "They... well, she... well, that is..."

Molly stiffened in her place. "Shouldn't they be taking care of her? You said that she was sick, that she was weak, that she could..."

"Well..." Percy found it hard to get the words out. "Well, err... I suppose it's... they said that... well, my daughter, she's..."

Percy stopped and seemed surprised by his own statement. "My daughter."

"What he wants to say is that when we went off to check up on her, they told us that she's not been taking up the oxygen or the water," Ginny explained. "No matter how much they give to her, her oxygen saturation is low and she's dehydrated. It's like whatever they gave her went straight through her. So they gave her to us. They said they couldn't do anything anymore, so might as well just wait it out and see what happens." _More waiting_ was all Molly's mind seemed to register.

Percy nodded his head. "Yes, that's... that's exactly what I said."

Fred stared at her with a vacant expression. "So, they gave her to you so she could _die_ in here, you mean?"

 _"Fred!"_ Molly shouted, noticing how pale Audrey was getting, but she shouldn't have yelled at him. He was only saying what everyone else was already thinking. "You—"

"No," Percy suddenly said. He looked furious. "She is _not_ going to die in here."

AUDREY wiped away the tears from her eyes. Percy had been sat waiting for her to wake up all night, but he was not sure why. It was... it was really late.

She'd been sleeping all day, but every time she woke up, she fell back asleep again.

Meanwhile, Percy was certain that he did not need any sleep. He could function on his feelings of despair just fine, thank you very much. She'd told the others to go and was relieved since. He couldn't stand others watching them struggle like this anymore. It was _humiliating_. He'd made a fool of himself so many times today that it was a little funny that he still had the ability to feel embarrassment.

"Percy, you're tired," she said to him. "Go to sleep."

Percy shook his head. "I can fix this."

Audrey sighed deeply. She didn't want to hear his absurd fallacies and loopy ideas. She just wanted to forget that this happened in the first place. "You're not making any sense. You haven't slept. You—"

"I assure you that I'm not tired, Audrey," Percy's voice was firm.

Audrey sighed deeply. "Well, then you're just mad with grief."

Percy shook his head. He was not mad with grief. "You can't mourn the living, Audrey, she's still here." Blue and tinged but _she was still there_. "They can't take her away, Audrey. They can't do this. They—"

 _"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT? PERCY, SHE'S **GONE**! SHE'S **FINISHED**! ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE HER ETERNAL LIFE WITH YOUR MYSTICAL, MAGICAL HANDS? ARE YOU GOING TO-TO—"_ Audrey dissolved into sobs. Percy had lost count of how many times this happened today.

"Audrey, you're forgotten," Percy was sitting on the ground, cradling her to his chest. "I have a gift."

And just like that, proper, loud cries were sounding out from the once quiet bundle into his arms. Once blue but was becoming rosier by the second. Percy closed his eyes. _He'd doomed them all._

"Percy... what have you done?" Audrey sounded horrified.

"I gave it to her," he couldn't help it. He couldn't just let her die.

 _"Percy, what did you do?"_ Audrey's voice was more forceful this time.

Percy just stared down at her. He couldn't seem to look away from her. "I gave her everything."

He knew that he shouldn't have done what he did but he couldn't help it. What else was he going to do? Was he really going to let his child die in his arms when he could do something? No matter how foolish, no matter how very Gryffindor-like, no matter how irresponsible...

 _How could he just let her die?_

"What did you give her, Percy?" Audrey asked more delicately. "What did you give her?"

Tears were filling his eyes as he pressed his head against the wall. "I've given her a part of my epilepsy."

"A _part_ of it?" Audrey raised an eyebrow. "What part?"

Percy bit down his lower lip. He didn't answer.

"Percy, you're scaring me!" Audrey looked like she was going to have another breakdown any minute now.

How could he tell her?

"What part, Percy?" Audrey asked again. "What part?"

Percy stared at her with a solemn expression on his face. "The part that I could control."

He couldn't say he regretted it because he'd do it again if given the chance. She was pink! She was breathing. He could feel her _life_ in his hands.

"Well, take it back!" Audrey was in disbelief.

Percy shook his head. "I can't," his shoulders slumped. "I don't know how to."

He wouldn't even if he could.

"Of all the stupid, hare-brained things that you've done over the last few years, this has got to be one of the most idiotic things that I've ever seen you do in my life!" Audrey exclaimed, still staring at him in wonder. She shook her head, probably attempting to digest what was acting going on. "How in Merlin's name are you supposed to fight off _the_ _God of war_ with the part of your epilepsy that you _can't_ control? Do you want us all to die? Oh, Godric, first you hatch up a plan that relies on your _mental sanity_ to work. After that, you regain some sort of semblance of reason, and then you give away the only part of your _gift_ that you can control to—"

Percy stared at Audrey. He seemed completely unaffected by everything that she'd said, "—save our baby."

 _"TO SAVE OUR BABY!"_ Audrey exclaimed. "How utterly foolish must you—?"

She looked like she was just digesting what he was trying to say.

"To save our baby," she repeated, more calmly now. "To save our baby."

Her shoulders slumped and she stared over at the little bundle in his arms. The room itself had evaded all concepts of time and space. They'd been left alone now. Just him and her.

"I couldn't let her die," Percy said in a cracked voice.


	58. Chapter 58

_after this chapter, there is just the epilogue. there's a huge author's note at the end explaining a lot of this story! i hope you all read it because it does help a little with the setting and prospective for this story._

 _ **review reply:**_

 _ **FairyRave:** yes, the baby is going to be Molly as well :) it doesn't fit into canon i believe because JK said that Molly was older (and i always imagine Molly as older) but for this fanfiction that is so AU in so many aspects, i'll take it. "Thus I'm just going to say that I will still be reading this till the more or less bitter end." this is such a big compliment. i loved reading this and it made me all gooey and happy inside. thank you!_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising:** i'm glad to hear that your daughter is alive and well. nobody deserves the burden of losing a child, especially not much before their time. i hope that she grows up happy and healthy. "Also, I love the comic relief. Tarvos is awesome!" i love how much you love Tarvos. it's always great when someone likes your OC! _

* * *

Chapter Fifty-Eight

* * *

"Typical!" a lethargic, thirty-year-old Audrey Brown offered an equally exhausted Molly a cup of tea before planting her arse onto her couch. She hated this ruddy thing. The only reason she hadn't replaced this ratty old couch yet was because she'd moulded her bum right into it. "Well, today's finally the day that Percy has to go make sure the God of war isn't going to annihilate the world over a century long temper tantrum with Zeus... keep in mind, Molly, that when he comes back home, _I'm_ going to annihilate _him_."

It was six in the morning. It was raining kneazles and crups. Audrey was not in a good mood.

If Lucy woke up before nine today, Audrey was going to put her straight back to bed because she didn't feel like making her breakfast this morning... especially if she was sure that Lucy was just going to gawk at it and wait for it to come alive. Then Lucy was going to steal herself a custard pastry from Percy's drawer when she thought Audrey wasn't looking, scoff that right up and say that she didn't fancy breakfast that morning.

"You know that he's promised me that before he'd go to work today, he'd have a proper breakfast this morning?" Audrey fumed. "A proper breakfast he's promised and yet, _look at what I found this morning!_ There are sugar crystals all over the counter! And my kitchen smells like the inside of a doughnut shop."

That bastard was going to have to face off a sugar crash before he faced off any Greek Gods!

Audrey _supposed_ that she should be trembling in fear over the fact that everything she knew might change today, but really, she was too bloody exhausted to be worry about the end of the world. Her little Molly (and Percy) had kept her up all night and she was absolutely knackered.

Yes, Percy hadn't slept properly last night.

And no, it wasn't the end of the world that was keeping her boyfriend up all night. Oh no! That was too insignificant! It was nowhere near as important as his _precious paperwork!_

She really wanted to murder him yesterday. She really did. Trying to put him to bed was worse than trying to put baby Molly to bed. You see, babies didn't try to debate the necessity of sleep when you tried to put them to bed. Babies didn't try to tell her that they _had_ to finish this last bit of the report, or else they'd be fired and that meant the whole family would have to live in a shoebox, subsisting on nothing but cheap sausage rolls ( _"I'm not even sure what kind of meat they put into that sausage roll, Audrey! I'm just sure it's against the law!"_ her bigheaded baby—she meant to say boyfriend—brought up as an argument.) Babies weren't complete arseholes that insisted that they could function on an hour's worth of sleep. And most importantly, babies didn't assure her that they'd have a proper breakfast in the morning and _then eat jam doughnuts instead!_

This was how everything was playing out. The fate of the world rested on the shoulders of a man that still refused to go to bed at a reasonable hour, and whose diet consisted of the most minimal amounts of food... up until three in the morning, where he would decide to scoff a whole sticky toffee pudding cake!

"He's meeting with Ares _today_?" Molly was visibly surprised to hear this. "He's told Ron, Harry and Hermione that tomorrow might be end of the world."

"Oh, that! That's just so they could leave him alone of course," Audrey sighed deeply before pulling her feet up on the coffee table. What? It was _her_ coffee table. "It's amazing how much he insists on doing this himself. Percy Weasley doesn't need anyone else's help. He never does, you know."

Molly nodded her head. She looked uncomfortable.

"Molly?" Audrey sat up properly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm perfectly fine..." Molly replied, but she didn't sound fine. "I mean I do wonder if I should even bother making supper tonight. I've thought to make a roast dinner because I really did think this whole end of the world situation was tomorrow. I _was_ going to invite you and Percy over for a proper meal tonight. That's why I've decided to visit you at six in the morning! I knew you'd be up. You see... Percy's written me a few owls recently and he's told me that you're always up when he's ready to go to work."

Audrey was somewhat amused by Molly's rambling. She was sure that Percy had put in a few bits of colourful language when he was telling Molly about the fact that Audrey seemed to be lurking about the living room in the morning, ready to assault him with questions that he surely didn't want to answer at any point in the day... much less at five in the morning!

"This is going to sound so odd but..." Molly cleared her throat. "Do you have any idea _when_ Percy is going to meet up with him?"

Audrey laughed, even though nothing about this situation was the least bit funny.

"Yes, he's told Ares that he'd meet up with him _after work_!" Audrey still couldn't believe this.

This was all a hoax. It had to be.

No antagonist planned their confrontation with the supposed protagonist through a series of owls. No antagonist decided that seven in the evening just wouldn't do because he'd promised Apollo he'd finally give back the Oracle of Delphi.

Audrey sighed deeply. Percy was going to give her an aneurysm long before eight in the evening tonight. "I've been telling myself that nothing's going to happen today. Percy's going to be able to fight the bastard just fine, because he _can't_ be late to his _very_ _important_ presentation tomorrow."

Molly nodded her head again, but she didn't seem convinced. "Audrey?"

"Yes, Molly?" Audrey asked.

Molly looked ashamed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm terrified... and I'm not sure if I should or shouldn't be. You're not acting like much is happening and... I'm not sure what to do."

Audrey looked down at her lap. "I know," she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm absolutely terrified myself. I'm scared that when he lets Ares take his body as a vessel, he's just going to lose control of it all together. I'm absolutely terrified that the temptation would be impossible for him to fight."

She crossed her legs up over the couch. Today might be the end of everything she knew and she refused to get out of her oversized, striped pyjamas for the rest of the day.

"Can you imagine what it's like?" Audrey asked. She'd been wondering for a long time.

"To _crave_ the war?" Molly raised an eyebrow. "To _want_ complete and utter destruction? To want to harm someone you _love?_ To want to _kill_ them? _To find it hard not to?_ To-to _fantasise_ about it constantly?"

"Yes, that," Audrey replied in an indifferent tone of voice.

Molly shook her head. "I've no clue," she honestly said. "And I'm not too keen on finding out either."

Audrey nodded her head. "I..." her throat felt dry. "You know what?"

"What?" Molly asked. She didn't seem all that keen on her tea this morning. Pity. Audrey was sure that she'd actually made a proper cup this morning.

Audrey locked eyes with Molly. She hadn't noticed, not until then that they had identical eyes—deep brown with a thick honey rim.

Had Percy ever noticed that before?

"We've made it obvious countless of times that his... _cravings_ are extremely odd and unnerving," Audrey was finding it hard to find the words that she wanted to use today. It felt like everything that left her tongue didn't fully explain what she _really_ meant to say. "It's disturbing that he's entertained by death and torture. It's disturbing that he has a taste for it. _I_ know that it's wrong. _He_ knows that it's wrong, but..."

 _"But?"_ Molly urged Audrey to continue.

Audrey wasn't sure she wanted to continue her piece, but she did anyway.

"He can't stop himself from wanting it!" it felt odd even rolling off her tongue. "He wants a war the same way people want a holiday! Honestly, I've seen him ecstatic when he'd seen a cat die in front of him and-and- _and_ he has this powerful yearning to... _kill_ and-and-and he has all this... _power_ in his body. He can do whatever he wants, and it's so hard for him not to eradicate the universe! It's just..."

Audrey took a deep breath because she wasn't making much sense anymore. "There were so many times where he'd cut himself by accident—or let's be honest here— _on purpose_ , and he'd sit there, licking the blood off his wound like a deprived vampire!"

"Godric, you're not talking about _my_ Percy, are you?" Molly paled. She probably felt like she would've noticed if her son was licking off his own blood from his flesh wounds.

"He just..." Audrey was still struggling to find words. "He has this deep yearning for these— _these_ _things_ that most people wish to never encounter in their life... and I..."

"Yes?" Molly prompted her to finish her piece.

"I just..." Audrey found it strange even thinking about saying _this_ out loud, much less saying it to someone else. "I regret that I've never asked him what he loves so much about it."

Molly didn't seem to find this as odd as Audrey thought she would.

"Well..." it was Molly's turn to struggle for words. _"When_ he comes home tonight, you can ask him."

"I'M not coming home tonight," Percy was talking to himself as he walked in the woods to the spot where he'd first met Alec Lestrange. He crossed his arms over his chest. He shuddered even though it wasn't cold. His stomach was flipping. He felt like he'd aged twenty years (well, he did have arthritis in his dodgy leg so that wasn't helping his case.) "I'm not. I can't do this. I've lost the ability to say no to my mum when she asks me if I want more on my plate because she worries for me. How in Merlin's name am I supposed to say _NO_ to _the one thing that I've wanted all my life?_ "

Last night, he had a hard time deciding what to wear today. When he'd picked out his black trousers, white button-down and purple tie, Audrey had told him that he looked like he was a seventh year going for his first job interview rather than going for the biggest fight in Percy's life.

When Adrian Pucey 'fixed' Percy's hair that morning, Audrey had decided that Percy was actually looking more like he was going on a date with Ares.

Percy was appalled at the thought to say the least. He liked to think that if he was going to go out with any Greek God, he'd have gone for something more like himself. Perhaps Adonis.

Percy pushed his glasses up his nose and looked down at his notes. Yes, he actually bothered to make notes.

He tried to read his notes but he couldn't make much sense of it. He walked down this path, getting closer to the field where he'd first met Penelope. A shudder went down his spine. It was getting cold. He could remember very few times in his life where he was freezing. As he reminisced about wintery weathers and other things that started with a _W_ , a certain memory found its way to his mind...

 _It was the beginning of December. A twelve-year-old Percy had his hands into the pockets of his extremely light robes as he walked down the Quidditch pitch. He knew that he shouldn't be here. He wasn't on any Quidditch team. He didn't have Quidditch practice. He just wanted to get away from the castle because he had such a terrible day! He had been given his first Dreadful on an assignment and he hadn't stopped crying all day long. He'd never even gotten an Acceptable before! And now, a Dreadful? He felt sick. He felt sick to his stomach._

 _He heard a snigger from behind. He turned around to catch sight of Terence Higgs, whom was wearing more layers than a wedding cake. In his hand was a small ice-cream cone. He wasn't supposed to be here either, but Percy supposed that he could threaten to tell Professor Snape about this, could he?_

 _"How can you eat that in this weather?" Percy was surprised. He was ready to throw himself in the fireplace over at the Slytherin commons this morning. Yes, he realised it was stupid to take a walk outside when one didn't have the appropriate clothing and when one's bum had turned to ice. "It's freezing!"_

 _"Do you want a bite?" Terence shoved the cone towards Percy, whom just shook his head and pushed Terence's arm back._

 _"NO!" Percy shrieked. His stomach was flipping. He had a really long day and he just wanted to go to his bed because what was the point of being awake? Percy was sure that his family hated him. His teachers all thought he was stupid. He was never going to amount to anything in his life. He was... he was dreadful! Absolutely dreadful! Even his assignment said so. "Get that way from me!"_

 _"Scared?" Terence smeared the ice-cold ice-cream across Percy's face. Percy let out a yelp and jumped back. "It's only ice-cream! Lighten up for Merlin's sake, Weasley! Must you be scared of everything!"_

 _"I'm not scared of anything!" Percy exclaimed._

 _"That's why you're in Gryffindor, isn't it?" Terence sneered, as he stepped towards Percy with the ice-cream cone in his hand. "Look at you! You're scared!"_

 _"I'm not!" Percy immediately started stepping back as Terence moved forward, only for twelve-year-old Percy to slip on a rock and fell onto his bottom. He couldn't help it... he burst into tears._

 _He humiliated himself! He hadn't meant to cry! It was just such a long day and he was so tired and alone... and he'd gone on a walk to clear up his head! Not have this happen to him. Percy just wanted to be held. He wanted his mum. Maybe she'd hug him if she wasn't too busy coddling everyone else._

 _Terence laughed. "Crying over spilled ice-cream, are you, Weasley?"_

 _"SHUT UP!" Percy suddenly attacked Terence, throwing the other Slytherin to the ground. An instant satisfaction filled him as he pummelled his small freckled fists into Terence's sneering face. He just kept on hitting him and hitting him and hitting him... Percy could smell the blood even before he saw it. "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!"_

 _Look! Terence wasn't laughing now! He was letting out soft whimpers. "Stop, Percy," he whimpered. "Percy, stop. P-P-"_

 _"NOW, I'M PERCY, AM I?" Percy cried out. He wanted to taste the blood. He wanted to sink his teeth into his flesh. He wanted to do all sorts of things that he knew that he shouldn't want to do but did anyway. _

_The sick feeling in his belly was going away. He wasn't upset anymore. He could eat if he wanted to. He could sleep. He could laugh. He wanted to play around like all the other kids now. He felt energised and wonderful and light. He had never felt like this before. He didn't want to be held anymore. He just wanted to tear Terence's eyes out like he did with Ginny's Gwenog doll. He wanted to tear his ear off too and make him feel sorry and he wanted to—_

 _"PERCY!" Penelope tried to pull Percy off Terence. "PERCY, YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"_

 _"I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!" Percy screeched, pushing Penelope off him. She let out a gasp. Apparently, she was surprised that someone so little could push her down. "LEAVE ME ALONE! LET ME KILL HIM!"_

Percy snapped back into reality. His heart was pounding in his chest and he heard snickering. He turned around to see Alec Lestrange— _Ares_ —staring back at him with a smirk on his face.

"What are you thinking of?" Ares asked.

Percy could sense his dark energy around him, like George could probably sense Fred's presence.

Percy and Ares— _mirrors_ to each other. Fortunately, Percy always had a tendency to look away from mirrors. He always did find himself extremely unattractive after all. He did not need a mirror to confirm it.

"I will bring it to your attention for the thousandth time that asking me what I'm thinking of will not exactly make you come off as ruler of the universe," Percy practically had this statement memorised from the time that he'd been in the ward. He hadn't even written it in his notes. "It does, however, make you seem to be a desperate paedophile. You're a _Greek God,_ and you have to ask me what I'm thinking of. You're—"

"—demoting myself quite a bit here," Ares finished off the statement. "I know, I know."

Percy offered a weak smile. "I was reminiscing."

"What about?" Ares asked, moving closer. "Show me."

Percy watched Alec Lestrange fall to the ground, like a dead body. Ares was gone.

Percy had to keep his hands to his side. The urge had never been this strong and he did not know how to stop himself. He could feel the dark energy flowing into him— _Ares, Ares, Ares_. He accepted it, allowing the darkness to embrace him from this inside. He'd never been so close to the darkness before. He'd become the silver-haired dark-eyed _thing_ that he'd been seeing in the dark. He felt as if he was sucking a black cloud with every breath he took. He could feel his blood thickening, poisoned by _the darkness_. He... he was at home, in every scene of the world. He felt a warmth fill his being like he had never thought it would. He found himself smiling and wrapping his arms around himself.

Percy stared down at the vessel before him. Alec Lestrange. Ares' handmade meat suit. This was the suit that he used to harm his Penelope. This suit had _touched_ her...

Percy threw his notes away and felt to the ground. He could hear Terence Higgs' cries as he stared down at the vessel before him. It was just a heap of flesh, bone and blood that Ares made decades ago; a useless mass of ligaments and joints that meant nothing now.

He took Alec's head into his hands... and then he ripped it off.

OLIVER Wood was grumbling to himself as he put his hands into his pockets. "I don't trust Percy."

Marcus had become unrecognisable the past few months. Bastard had managed to snag himself a nice slim and muscular physique and his eyes were _glittering_ to boot! There was a certain glow to him that made Oliver feel like Marcus was either taking euphoria-inducing elixirs or he was pregnant.

Marcus insisted that he was neither, but he also refused to take a pregnant test. This left Oliver skeptical.

Oliver wanted to kill him—and then he also wanted to snog the hell out of him, but the bastard just _had_ to be straighter than a broom... and married!

"You don't trust us either," Fred and George pointed out.

"To be fair, I don't trust you two either," Marcus defended Oliver.

"I don't trust anything that's ginger," Oliver wrapped his arms around his chest. He shouldn't have said that, considering he was walking with a houseful of gingers. "Including ginger nut biscuits."

"What do you mean you don't trust anything that's ginger?" Ron reminded him. "You live with _us!_ "

"He's just sad 'cause someone ate his custard tarts," George said, turning his eyes towards Harry, whom shook his head. "Come on, Harry! It's alright! You could tell him. You're The Boy Who Lived after—"

Fred visibly paled, "Georgie, _look!_ "

George whipped his head around and then lost all colour to his face.

Oliver wouldn't blame him because he was looking at the field himself. He'd seen a lot of things in his life, but seeing a blood-covered perfect prefect prissy Percy tear off _visceral organs with his bare hands_ from an ex-Death Eater's body was not exactly one of the things that he'd thought he'd ever see in his life. And worst of all, he looked like he was _enjoying it!_ Olive knew that there was something demented about this lad!

"Percy?" Harry looked alarmed. "Should we... give you a moment?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "No, Harry! I'm... well, I'm done," he dropped the organ in his hand. Was that the bloke's pancreas? He rubbed his blood-covered hands over his black trousers, and offered a smile. He straightened out his spine. "Well, I suppose that this is done."

Marcus eyed him suspiciously. "Done?" he sounded dubious.

"I _did_ tell you that I do not need anyone's help," Percy reminded them. "It's finished. It's done."

"Yes, um..." Charlie stared down at the dismembered body. "We can see that."

Oliver definitely didn't believe him. He turned to look down at Molly, whose lips were trembling. Arthur was holding onto her shoulder. Ginny looked just as incredulous as Oliver felt.

 _"Brilliant,"_ Ginny said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Let's go."

DINNER was the strangest affair that Oliver had seen in his life.

The table was stretched to accommodate every member of the Weasley clan, including Harry, Hermione, a confused Penelope, an uncertain Audrey and a confused Lucy. Avis was busy tapping the floor with her hands, laughing whenever it made the creaking sound. Oliver was scared the little thing was going to break the ancient floorboards if she kept doing that. Baby Molly was asleep in a cot. A baby monitor, charmed to change colours when quiet, _quiet_ Molly arose from her slumber, was on the table beside a chronically fatigued Audrey whom looked like she hadn't slept since the first war ended.

Plates were piled high. Drinks were poured out... Interrogative questions were asked.

 _"Why were you acting like a maniac?"_ Question one, rephrased in Oliver's head. Molly had asked this one. She did not use the word maniac and she definitely asked it in a much nicer way.

"Momentary lapse in sanity," Percy had answered with a reserved smile.

 _"You said that this was all supposed to happen tomorrow. Why were you lying?"_ Question two, rephrased in Oliver's head. Ron asked this one. There was a lot more swearing and accusation when Ron had actually asked it.

"I didn't want anyone else to get harmed," Percy had answered automatically. "I believed that this was my fight and my fight alone."

 _"Is Ares really gone? Because I'm having a hard time believing that this is all really over. Usually, these things tend to end with a bang, and not with a whisper. He is a Greek God after all!"_ Question three, not rephrased. Arthur's question.

Percy gave a sharp nod of his head. "He may be a Greek God, but I _did_ once defeat him when I was ten."

 _"If you could've really finished this all off so quickly, then why did it take you a year to prepare?"_ Question four, rephrased. Audrey. Included more anger and mentions of their relationship.

"I was mentally unwell," Percy reminded her. As if she could forget.

By that point, Oliver had stopped listening in on the questions. A lot of them were repeated and a lot of the times, Percy just perfectly rephrased whatever he'd said previously. Oliver wasn't happy. Yes, Percy had answered the questions... but he had the most automatic responses for them! It was like he had memorised them for a presentation of some sorts! He had no emotion connected to it. There was no stumbling, no emotion—it was like a statue was reading them out! Then again, the bastard never had much emotion anyway. Maybe he was reading too much into it because he hated Percy with every fibre of his being...

Oliver did actually have a good look down the table, just to make sure Percy wasn't holding a piece of parchment paper with a bunch of notes scribbled on top of them and reading it out!

Oliver was extremely skeptical about the whole situation that he'd just witnessed but he didn't raise any of his concerns, because he was afraid that Percy might _do_ something to him if he knew that he didn't believe a word coming out of the bastard's mouth.

 _Hey! Percy dissected a Death Eater in front of them with his own bare hands—and looked to be having a great time!_

Oliver had a reason to be absolutely _terrified_ of him...

This was amplified with how their awful history was. He was surprised that Percy hadn't already smashed Oliver's thick, Quidditch-obsessed head with Thor's sledgehammer.

Just looking at Percy smiling at them with his creepy plastic smile and shining blue eyes really turned Oliver off his supper. _How could anyone stand him?_ He was dressed like a Weasley but was no better than a Lestrange!

Despite the lack of appetite, Oliver still scoffed whatever was put in front of him because he was afraid that Percy might notice that he wasn't eating (an unusual occurrence for Oliver) and that he might somehow be able to read Oliver's mind and realise that he doubted everything Percy had said thus far. He was afraid that Percy might kill him and make it look like an accident! _Hey! It was possible, alright?!_

As time went on, everyone seemed to be laughing like they were having the best night of their lives.

The conversations seemed to change so quickly that Oliver couldn't keep up with them! He didn't even really want to. He was just exhausted and he wanted to scoff his potatoes and go upstairs.

 _"...Angelina and I are getting married this December..."_ said George (at some point).

 _"...I can't believe you did this to me,"_ said Fred (to George, whilst fully smiling instead of yelling like usual.)

 _"...when are WE going to get married, Percy?"_ asked Audrey (she wasn't even angry mentioning it like usual.)

 _"...Arthur, I want another baby—"_ said a dreamy-eyed Molly.

 _"NO!"_ erupted the rest of the table... then they dissolved into laughter.

Oliver shifted uncomfortably in their seat. It was like they were being poisoned! With _happiness!_

Oliver didn't know how, but he was feeling _it_ himself. He could feel happiness form in his bones and every fibre of his being wanted to believe the twat. He wanted to believe that everything was fine and dandy, but his hatred for Percy was too strong. He'd rather die than believe anything the twat said.

Percy wasn't the least bit convincing. His arguments were weak and unpersuasive and although they sounded logical at first, the more Oliver picked at his points, the more he saw how poor they were.

Yet there was something in Oliver's body that was telling him to _just believe him_. Something that was strong and growing and growing and growing... gnawing at his brain.

 _JUST BELIEVE HIM!_

It was so strong that as time passed, Oliver could barely breathe. His bones were starting to become liquidated. He could start to remember memories of his parents that he was sure he never had before. He could remember the first time that Marcus hugged him. He could remember the exact memory where he'd fallen in love with his best friend. He could remember how happy he was when he'd heard that he'd been accepted into Puddlemere United. No matter what he did, every good memory that had ever happened to him flashed in front of his eyes. It was like he'd never known sadness.

He started to laugh too, and he wasn't sure why. He was just warm inside... but he was in pain. _He was in so much pain_. Because he wouldn't let himself believe that everything was okay.

He knew if he did, the pain would go away but he couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't.

The only thing that kept him planted into this universe was _Marcus_.

He didn't look like his new shiny self anymore. He looked like his old, haggard self. He was shaky and weak. He hadn't eaten a thing of dinner, despite Molly's insistence that he have something to settle his stomach. The only thing that he'd had was his Merlin-forsaken tea. Actually, he feigned that he'd had his tea to get Molly off his back, but the cup was as full as it was when she'd handed it to him!

The whole dinner went by so smoothly that Oliver knew that something was up. It wasn't a proper Weasley dinner unless someone got burned, maimed or the Auror department was involved somehow.

That, and Penelope hadn't told had one fight with Marcus throughout the whole dinner. Impossible.

He glanced over at Marcus, whom gave a quick nod of his head when he was sure Percy wasn't looking.

Oliver was sure that Percy had brainwashed them. He wasn't sure how he'd done it.

Oliver saw Marcus shove a blueberry muffin into his rucksack and give a quick wave of his hand. _Follow me_.

He waited at least fifteen minutes after Marcus left to leave. He went upstairs and looked in every room. He found Marcus in the lavatory, pretending to be interested in how his hair looked like (it looked like rubbish, like always. He loved that about Marcus. He loved that his hair was always rubbish.)

Marcus looked at Oliver, and then smirked.

"Are you still angry about the fact that Penelope stole your idea and took me all around the world in two months?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow.

PERCY had never been to Greece before. He placed his hand on his lower back and stared at Olympus. A sudden nostalgia started tugged at his heart—not his nostalgia. _Ares._ They'd only been together for one day, and he could already tell their feelings apart.

He hoped no tourists came around, or he would be forced to kill them all.

 _We have to ascend to that mountain,_ said Ares. _And then we will kill my father. We'll take his throne, and we'll start a war for the ages. I've gotten this far with other vessels before, but they were weak! They'd all died. They could not ascend._

Visions of spears and chariots came to Percy's mind and danced in front of his eyes. He'd run away from home years ago, to find his home. Now, he was _so close_ he could almost taste it. He knew where he truly belonged. Every core of his being screamed it out to him. He could feel and taste nothing but the blood of Ares' former vessel. He could remember memories he'd never had before. He could remember the Trojan War. He could remember Zeus looking down at him, telling him that he was the most hated son of all. He could remember the row that they had, the centuries old promise that he would come back to Olympus one day and that it would not be a happy reunion.

Percy could remember the times that Molly had told him that he was fit for more than the rest of his brothers, that he was special, and that she loved him very much. She was right. He was destined for _war_.

The darkness was not taking him hostage. It was taking him home...

A silver-haired lady with eyes darker than Percy's soul was awaiting him. She had stories for him, stories that couldn't be torn by little twin brothers that were having a bit of fun with a bunch of enchanted sticks.

 _"Percy,"_ a voice called out to him. He thought it was just his mind, before he turned to see Oliver Wood.

Percy did not speak. He let his other half, Ares, speak. "You're a very interesting character, Oliver."

"Really?" Oliver stared at him with a wary expression. "I thought I was just a Quidditch-obsessed heathen."

Ares laughed. Percy did not think it was funny.

"Yes!" Ares insisted on continuing his ludicrous speech. Percy was never a big fan of them. He thought that they weren't the most properly structured. "I think the fact that you've decided to be an Animagus very interesting. How old were you when you perfected the craft?"

"Ten," Oliver replied. He didn't move from his spot at all. "I wanted to be adopted."

"So you became a mutt because you noticed one day, when you were looking out the window of your sad, sad orphanage that people tended to adopt pets more than they tended to adopt silly little Quidditch-obsessed boys," Ares mocked. Percy was... very surprised. He didn't know that that was the reason for why Oliver had decided to be an Animagus. "Even as a dog, they didn't want you."

Oliver looked like he'd been slapped. "I wasn't small like the other dogs that all the other children wanted."

Percy's heart sunk into his chest. He could remember the dog lying down beside Marcus. He thought it was rather adorable that the dog had streaks in his abdomen to signify Oliver's hard-rock abdominals. But yes, Oliver was a large bloke. He had to have been a large dog too.

 _You cannot tell me that you feel sorry for him_ , Ares snapped at his other half. _You're not weak like he is, Percival. Don't give into him. It's a ploy. This is the boy that your father wanted to replace you with... or have you forgotten?_

 _I... I haven't,_ Percy sounded uncertain.

He suddenly was tackled to the ground. He felt a hand move towards his dodgy leg. _SNAP!_

Ares pushed Marcus Flint off him, and glared at him with a murderous look to his eyes. " _You!_ I should've killed you the moment that your mother gave birth to you!" Ares formed his hands into fists and then smashed Marcus' face in. Percy felt happiness form into his chest. He felt Flitterbies form into his chest every time he his hands become wetter. He wanted to laugh when he felt Oliver Wood trying to pull Ares off Marcus, to no avail. Ares flung Oliver off Percy's frame effortlessly. "Ever since you learned how to talk, you've been a bloody problem! I smashed your head in for five years and yet you still have some semblance of a self esteem! You're so thick you don't even know that you're supposed to feel like absolute rubbish when your father has spent the last five years calling you worthless!"

"My father has never called me worthless!" Marcus exclaimed, spitting out one of his teeth.

Ares smashed his fists onto Marcus' chest. He saw blood drain from his face. "WHY WON'T YOU DIE, YOU STUPID..." another swing to Marcus' face, "...BLOODY..." he grabbed his leg and snapped it like the twig that it was, _"...HUFFLEPUFF!"_

Marcus just lost consciousness. Oliver ran to his side almost immediately.

"Marcus? Marcus?" Oliver shook him as hard as he could. "Marcus, _wake up!"_

Ares turned to look at the mountain. Percy tried to push away his hesitation, as Ares prepared himself for his monumental ascent. He smiled at the blood red skies. The sun was dawning. The night would be here soon. And tomorrow? A new era would await them all.

 _"Wha?"_ Marcus woke up. That Zeus forsaken part-troll must've found the elixir of eternal life! Ares would torture him slowly after he'd destroyed his father.

Ares let himself ascend. His body floating in the air, his godliness emitting a florescent glow... he was like a rising star. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of flight... he was close to the top... reaching, reaching—

 _NO!_ A pain came to him. It was an impossible, terrible, _CRIPPLING_ pain.

Ares fell from the near height of Olympus, crashing down to the ground with this... this feeble body! Foiled again! Ares attempted to leave this putrid body, but found himself unable to move. It was as if he'd been locked inside a house and someone had thrown away the key.

 _I can't leave this body! I'm trapped!_ Ares realised. _You planned this!_

 _I did,_ Percy admitted. _Would you like me to tell a story?_

Percy did like stories. He ran away from home because his brothers had destroyed all his stories once.

His story began in the ward.

Ares had let slip a very important piece of information: he could not access Percy's thoughts. Percy had a natural barrier against him. Percy could choose which thoughts he wanted to disclose... yet at the same time, Percy could not read Ares' thoughts. He did not know Ares' true ambitions.

Yet they could feel each other's hunger for the war. They wanted to feed off each other like hungry wolves.

The need was there. It was real. Pulsating. Percy felt his body howling for it like a wolf did for the moon.

The hunger made Percy realise another very important thing: they were each other's equivalents. They were equals. They were _mirrors_. They were two halves of a whole. Day and night. Sun and moon. Fire and water.

Percy barely felt the cold. He was kept warm by his fraudulent mother, _the darkness_...

In the same year, Percy got his life-changing letter—a letter from Marcus Flint that told him that his epilepsy really was a gift from Athena to help conquer Ares. It was not an illness as he thought before. She had given him a body of spastic, archaic magic that was so powerful that his body convulsed as a result of it. It was so strong that he could only learn how to control a small segment of it. Percy was meant to learn how to prevent himself from convulsing and falling prey to a sickness the power inside his body. He was only meant to harness the ability to control a small fraction of the power inside his body; the rest of it had kept him alive when he continued to deplete his body of blood. It kept him warm during the winter days, and tried to fight the darkness away when Percy could not. It made him hunger for something more. Something better.

Percy invited Ares into his body. As long as they shared the same vessel, they were still equivalents.

They shared every cell like they would share stories of torture and fantasises of the darkness. The warmth in their bones as they tasted their own blood. They shared each other's hunger and their meals. They shared it, they shared everything... they shared every bodily tissue... except...

 _Percy's dodgy leg._ Percy was used to the pain. The pain that shunned everything, including _the hunger_. But Percy learned to shun the pain a lot time ago. The hunger learned how to grow even in the presence of pain.

But that part of his epilepsy that kept him warm at night learned how to shun the hunger too.

Percy hunted for plans in his shed. He found the small phial of scarlet red liquid that Tarvos' relative had given him years ago. It had made him so happy when he'd taken it. He did not feel pain for days. He took some of it, and the rest he'd rubbed all over his mum's hands at night. Percy always thought his mum had a magical touch. And she did. For that night, everything she touched—from people to food to silverware—had been polluted with happiness.

At dinner last night, people found themselves in a state of happiness Percy thought he was only to know once. They believed anything that came out of Percy's mouth. They had to. He'd made them so happy. They were willing to believe anything... and they were willing to eat anything. They ate, and they ate and they became happier. Their food was poisoned.

Marcus didn't eat. It wasn't unusual. He had shunned his hunger a lot time ago.

Oliver hungered for Marcus. He ate but the food did not fill his heart with happiness. It couldn't.

They were meant to come here. Marcus had promised to come here. He promised to help him.

Percy could not stand shunning the hunger anymore. He wanted to feed... on blood, on flesh, on the wars. He wanted to feed on stories that he was promises. He was weak.

Marcus knew. Marcus had always known.

Marcus had attacked Percy's leg. The pain was there. Small. Sharp. _A distraction_... Ares was distracted. Ares was not used to being distracted from his hunger.

When Ares was in pain, Percy and Ares ceased to be equivalents. Percy had more power. Percy had locked Ares into his body like he was a misbehaved child. He locked him in his house so that he did not make Percy hungry with fantasies of rotting bones and flesh. He locked him in the house because Percy could find his home elsewhere. He did not want to live in this house, with this hunger. He knew that once he would feed, he would keep on eating and eating... and he would be empty and empty. Forever.

There was not enough blood in the world to satisfy Percy's body. There was not enough flesh, not enough meat, or cartilage. He would hear screams of those that had harmed him and he could hear it for all of eternity and it would not be enough. The sky could cry and he would still be dry. The moon could dance and he would still just stare.

Percy was always meant to stay hungry. He was not even meant to die. He was just meant to stay hungry.

He could not feed.

Ares ascended. It was too much for Percy's weak body that had only tasted its own blood. The potion that Percy had taken hadn't been enough to dilute the pain, not of the hunger but of his leg... Percy let go.

He let Ares feel the pain that shunned the God of war's hunger for war. Percy took the fall, and he let Ares bite him. It was only a small little bite, but here Percy was now. He had fallen from the height of 2,500 metres. Roughly 400 metres away from the top of Olympus.

Ares had bit him hard.

Percy landed on his dodgy leg. He was in the most pain that he'd ever been in his entire life. A thousand Cruciatus curses couldn't put him in that much leg. He could not feel the hunger at all anymore... and he was not quite sure how he was alive. He just was.

The redness in the sky had disappeared. There was no blood for them, either of them. Not ever again.

 _But why? You were happy! We were both happy! I could feel your comfort. You and I were the perfect halves! We completed each other. You were my ultimate and my one true vessel._ Ares didn't seem to understand. _You were finally home—and you then... you chose to burn it to the ground!_

Percy was certain that he would never be able to walk again... yet he'd never been this happy in his life.

He wondered what it would be like to hear his daughter laugh...

 _You seem to have forgotten,_ Percy beamed at the black sky, _that my_ _mother_ _promised me a better home._

* * *

 _ **final note before epilogue (next and last chapter)** : _

_**"Percy pushed his glasses up his nose and looked down at his notes. Yes, he actually bothered to make notes."** the content of these notes are explored later, and hinted at when Oliver says that Percy's responses seems automatic. rehearsed. it was. Percy's notes were related to the questions that his family were going to ask after he 'gives into' Ares. he went off on the fact that Ares could not read Percy's thoughts like he could Arthur's. this was explored before when Percy was in the ward. this was all part of the ploy to garner Ares' trust and make him think that he really did persuade Percy into the dark side. _

_**"The sick feeling in his belly was going away. He wasn't upset anymore. He could eat if he wanted to. He could sleep. He could laugh. He wanted to play around like all the other kids now. He felt energised and wonderful and light. He had never felt like this before. He didn't want to be held anymore. He just wanted to tear Terence's eyes out like he did with Ginny's Gwenog doll."** this scene was meant to serve two purposes. **1)** it's meant to indicate that Percy has had mental lapses before. some we did see, i.e. the Gwenog doll scene and a drunken Percy confessing to Molly and the more so recent scenes, and some we did not, i.e. this scene in flashback. it was mostly ignored by others. **2)** it's meant to describe Percy's behaviourisms. his confusing sleeping/eating habits, his distance from others, his irritability as a child, his inability to cope - you can even go as far as to say that this may have been the drive for him to run away. this is one of the times where Percy breaks at something small, i.e. a bad day where Terence is making fun of him and his bad grade. it's reminiscent of the first scene in this fanfiction where Percy overreacts to the twins destroying his books and lying about the wand._

 _ **"Percy stared down at the vessel before him. Alec Lestrange. Ares' handmade meat suit. This was the suit that he used to harm his Penelope. This suit had touched her..."** this is one of the consistently disturbing things i had to write about Percy. i know i had to write him having very unsavoury thoughts but this is one of the worst. i think it's been hinted a few times that Percy has a strange obsession with Penelope and feels the need to protect her as he did when they were children. particularly when it comes to people **touching** her. it was hinted at Roger and then at Marcus **(that he would not be able to touch Penelope if he was dead).** honestly, make what you want from it. i have my own idea as to why Percy feels like this, but it is not a set in stone reason. for those that were interested for how this was supposed to go... honestly, in the **first few drafts** of this fanfiction (and i don't know if you want to use this chain of events to describe it), there was **supposed** to be a molestation plot from when Percy is a child, that he kept buried deeply, that that he harnesses hate around that triggered this cascade of **'i want everyone to die'.** i did **not** want to go this route, but this was how it was supposed to go initially and explains Percy's overprotection to someone that has been sexually assaulted, i.e. Penelope or his changing behaviour when he realised that Marcus is abused. you could still keep that plot in mind if you want, just something that has never been dealt with, i.e. in the beginning where Audrey said she never asked him **why** he was so obsessed with it. i kept it very open to discussion and i did not want to add this plot in (even though i already have a trigger warning for sexual assault), but this was what i originally had in mind when i was writing this. _

_**the final few paragraphs were meant to describe Percy's ploy**. just for a recap, Percy and Ares are 'equivalents'. they are equal. a tie. the ploy was to attack Percy's leg and the pain would distract Ares from the hunger to help Percy gain control power of his body. during this short period of time, Percy chose to 'lock' Ares in his body, as if they were a lock, box and key dynamic. Ares ascended, but the potion that Percy had taken was starting to wear off (the scarlet potion that dulled pain - and he spiked the food with - was wearing off. Percy took this potion so that Ares would be completely shocked of the pain. he gave it to his family so that they would believe him when he would say that he defeated Ares the first time around. the ascending process changes the atmospheric pressure, so the partial pressure of inspired oxygen. Percy's ascend is extremely quick. this, of course, has a negative impact on his whole body system. Percy's whole body could not cope with the oxygen dynamic and he collapses. of course, take out his mystical magical epilepsy that keeps Percy alive no matter what, he'd be dead.) in fact, Percy is mildly delirious as he explains the story using the wolf, hunger and darkness analogy. **"Percy was certain that he would never be able to walk again... yet he'd never been this happy in his life."** **though as you will see in the epilogue, Percy not only is not able to walk... he is completely done for. he is paralysed and is unresponsive** **BUT ** because this chapter is written in **his point of view** , and he does not describe any other symptom other than the pain of his leg because to him, it is irrelevant. his dodgy leg, himself and Ares are the only thing that are in the equation. this, of course, is **extremely medically inaccurate** , as is the rest of this fanfiction but... i think you've already guessed that. but that was **my** reasoning behind Percy's collapse. the severe altitude sickness. _

_there will be a more comprehensive note following this in the epilogue._


	59. Chapter 59

_before reading this, i wanted to mention something that friend Fred pointed out. the last chapter, it was clearly emphasised that Percy could not walk again. actually, the effects are **much more tragic** (see below where Percy is not just paralysed, he's completely off.) however, because it was in **Percy's** point of view, all he could focus on was **a)** the fact that he couldn't walk and **b)** his strange contentment with how everything panned out despite the fact that the epilogue shows a darker turn, i.e. the effects of that on everyone else. just to be clear. i already mentioned it in the last note but just to remind you and to be clear._

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Molly placed Percy's copy of _Prefects Who Gained Power_ on her lap. She fixed her blue-and-bronze tie and crossed her long legs over one another.

She dreaded having to read this book.

It was the only book they had in their flat. Her mum told her that if Percy only had one book to read for the rest of his life, it would be this one. Molly remembered being excited the first time she'd opened it ten years ago. By the first three paragraphs, she found herself passed out on the couch, drooling all over the fine print!

It was the most boring book she'd ever read in her whole life.

She actually found Professor Binns' class far more exciting than this drivel that her poor father insisted on calling fine literature. Every sentence she read made her IQ drop a few points... yet she'd read this book so many times that every word of every paragraph of every chapter was probably seared into her brain forever.

She closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself to read a chosen chapter of the book. She'd been doing this for him every day for the past ten years... and she had to admit that it got a little tiring reading a section of a book you absolutely loathed to someone that had as much life to them as a dead flobberworm.

Her mum used to tell her that once that her father had a bed made out of just books. Molly wondered if they were all just copies of _Prefects Who Gained Power_... because if no other book could compare, then why bother reading other books?

 _"I'll have to hear about it from him,"_ Molly always told Audrey whenever she mentioned the fabled book bed.

To an avid bookworm like Molly, the book bed sounded like a fantasy. She refused to see pictures of it although her mum claimed to have dozens of them. She was never one for photographs. She left those to Lucy (though she really did insist on taking very risqué photographs... that Molly hoped her mum would never find about. Else she might actually burn Lucy alive.)

Molly had no interest in the things Lucy did. She simply liked to read and she liked to listen.

Molly had her own set of elaborate fantasies... some even more elaborate than the book bed! She used to dream of hearing Percy tell her stories about the stories that he read. She used to dream of going out to a café, sitting with him and having a chat with him about where he used to see himself at this age (he had been permanently stuck at twenty-three for the last seventeen years but still!). She used to dream of taking him out to see the musicals that Avis loved so much. She used to dream of taking him to one of Adrian Pucey's Quidditch games, or to just sitting down to have split pea soup whilst watching the muggle telly.

All she ever wanted to take care of him.

A tired Molly opened her mouth to recite the first few sentences of his favourite chapter, but then lost her motivation. Actually, she had more motivation to join the Ravenclaw Quidditch team than to read this book.

She poured herself a glass of water and took a sip. She decided that had better stories than this for him today.

"Lucy brought her new boyfriend over. Mum's livid," an energetic Molly said. It was so sad seeing him sat in his wheelchair, completely frozen in time and unmoving. He was so cold all the time. Her grandmother knitted a blanket for him every week since he'd been in. Ron got to pick the colour for today's blanket— _pink_ , like the new plimsolls that Uncle George had gotten him... Percy was like a little doll that they dressed up whenever they wanted. "Mum says that you'll probably hate him. She says you wouldn't be keen on Lucy dating a bloke that has more ink on his body than there is my copy of _Advanced Potion Making_."

Molly fixed up his blanket, draping it to cover his whole body instead of just his shoulders. He looked _so cold_ sitting there, staring at her with ecstatic blue eyes and the biggest smile in the world. He hadn't moved a muscle in seventeen years. _"Neither has your grandfather now that you mention it,"_ Molly heard her grandmother say a few times. _"Always in that shed... hasn't had the heart to change the walls yet. I think Percy used to like the yellow... you know I used to buy raincoats in that colour."_

"I'm sorry Lucy doesn't visit as much," Molly smiled weakly. "She said she can't bear to look at you, that you make her sad. I suppose I can't blame her... you're not very talkative, are you? Mum says that you used to be very talkative and that it was hard to make you shut up for more than three seconds. Uncle Fred and George agree." She wondered how he sounded like...

Molly laughed, but she didn't find this very funny.

She looked down at her feet again. It _was_ very hard to look at him. He broke her heart.

Molly was tall and thin like he was. She had long, straight red hair but she had her mother's eyes—her grandmother's eyes. Her hair was naturally curly, but she straightened it up with a host of glamour charms and Madame Primpernelle's beauty products. She didn't like the curls. They frizz up too much, and she'd end up with hair worse than her aunt Hermione's.

"Lucy's going to be a dragon tamer," Molly finally found a new topic to talk about. It was hard to keep a one sided conversation. "She's going to go to Romania and live with Uncle Charlie and her new boyfriend. Mum says that Lucy's hoping to wake you up by doing things that are going to give you a heart attack."

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Mum doesn't want to come anymore either. She says it's too hard, and she has herself a new boyfriend too—he doesn't have any tattoos. He's really nice. He's bought me a few books but I've not read them yet. He's not as good as you... _I suppose_ since I've never actually met you but-but-but from what I've heard..."

Molly wondered if her grandmother was ever going to stop seeing him. She wondered if one day, her uncle Bill thought that it was a waste of his time to sit down with someone that was completely inanimate.

"You have me," she flattened an already flat segment of his hair. "I'm not going to leave you."

She stood up from the chair she was sitting on.

"Mum said that... " Molly's voice trailed off.

She felt her chest tighten. She had a new blanket that Molly had made for him in her rucksack and she just wanted to tear it into pieces. It was blue like his eyes.

"It doesn't really matter what she said, does it?" Molly sounded miserable. " _She's_ left you. _Lucy's_ left you and... and maybe when I run out of things to say, _I'm_ going to leave you too."

She closed the smallest gap that was between them and reached over to touch his cheek.

"You saved the world and now, you're stuck in this chair forever. You can't say a word and I'm not even sure if you can hear me. You're not dead because you can't die because of all this magic inside you. You're doomed to sit here in this Godric forsaken hospital and do nothing for the rest of eternity," Molly found it hard to say the words but they were true. She didn't know why she said them. She was hoping that somehow, he'd just snap out of it and yell at her for hurting his feelings.

She crouched down to his eye level. "Lucy is two years _older_ than you now. In seven years, _I'm_ going to be older than you and you're... still going to be stuck in this chair. Alone. You're probably going to be alone for the rest of your life. People will stop coming because they've died and you'll still be here, being _nothing_."

She wondered sometimes if she was really talking to her father, or if she was talking to a statute and that she'd been tricked all her life. Sometimes, she felt like there was no way the man before her once used to be a human being. It just seemed impossible! But then...

She'd touch his cheek and feel his skin. His _human_ skin. And she could feel how cold he was.

"Mum said that I was going to die and you gave me my life," Molly said. _"Is it true?"_

He didn't answer. He _never_ answered.

"I've gone mad," Molly said to no one in particular. "I'm... I'm talking to the air!"

She went to pick up her coat. She pulled it over her tall frame and turned to have a look at him.

She put her hair up into a bun and waited for him to move or to blink or to smile... _or do anything_.

The healers had told her that he was breathing on his own, but she wasn't sure how someone could be breathing when their chest wasn't moving and their mouth was always closed into a thin, tight line.

 _"Please wake up,"_ she pleaded. "I want to meet you, and I... I want to take you back home with me!"

Those fantasies were swirling in her head again. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

"I've got my own flat and it's really nice," Molly chattered energetically. "I've got a muggle telly in it too so that granddad can come and watch sometimes. We can order a takeaway. There's fish and chip shop near my flat. It's proper stodge and it's not good for granddad because grandmother's worried about his heart, but it tastes amazing. And if you come with... I'll— _I'll even read you your poor excuse of a book!_ How's that?!"

Molly didn't know what happened afterwards. She screamed... and then...

Fireflies started to form into her eyes and one second later, she found herself on the ground. She woke up, dizzy and discombobulated. She must've slipped down and hit her head in the process. She had a headache that reminded her quite a lot of a hangover.

Molly wouldn't know then, but many years from now, she would realise that she had a fit. It would be the only fit that Molly would ever have in her life and she would never forget it.

Molly moved to grab the table and pull herself up, breathing heavily. She placed her head into her hands and sobbed. Her entire body ached.

She looked up to see that Percy was staring at her. She thought it was a figment of her imagination for the first few seconds, but she could've sworn he was looking at her.

"Look at what you've done!" Molly shouted at him. "You've made me hurt myself! You've— _you've_..."

She paused to stare at him. His eyes were getting glossy, like he was going to cry.

Her heart must've stopped. "Percy?" she said, placing a hand on his cheek and stroking it gently.

She shouldn't have said his name. He was her father for Merlin's sake, but she'd _always_ called him Percy. Her sister was bloody older than him! She couldn't go around calling him her father. It looked odd.

"There was a time... long ago... where I gave you life..." Percy's voice was hoarse. _Of course, it was hoarse. He hadn't spoken in seventeen years!_ but oh, did he have a lot to tell her... "And now, you've given it back to me."

* * *

 _yes, that ending was supposed to be bittersweet. i hope i succeeded in having that come across._

 ** _Final notes:_**

 _The most important element in this fanfiction is **irony**. _

_Throughout the chapters, Percy has said many times that **one of the biggest mistakes in his life was running away when he is young**... and thus procuring his leg injury. There are quite a lot of scenes in the morning with him sulking about it, and even later on with him still moaning on about it. It's a very prominent theme in this work. His leg injury is the driving force for many plotlines and gags in this fanfiction and has been perpetuated as a device for assessing and developing others characters' relationship towards Percy. Some characters do not think much of it (e.g. Oliver Wood) whilst others do (e.g. Penelope Clearwater). The ironic part this whole fanfic is that he is able to fool Ares by using his leg injury (his disability) to gain an advantage... making a) the biggest mistake of Percy's life ironically being the  best mistake of his life and b) the irony that **dis ability** has actually given him the **ability ** to trick Ares._

 _The **disrupted system** is very important here too. It is shown in the  Ministry in the discrimination of Percy as an epileptic (though understandable because Percy is posed as a danger), and it is shown mostly in **the medical system** , where Percy was able to escape as a child. He is consistently been in and out of hospital, and **sickness** is very important here. It is how he's treated, the interaction, the reason and for a good part of it too, Percy is involved in the hospital when he's **volunteering** , and when he's in the **ward**. **Marcus, Penelope, Tarvos and Audrey** are all are part of the desperate healthcare system. This is important especially because Marcus has terrible school records but is accepted anyway. Penelope and Percy have been volunteering at young ages, because of how desperate the system is and Percy wants a certificate. The point of Percy's volunteering, however, is to further establish that **a)** him and Audrey meeting, **b) people view him as disabled**... which was not really touched on until then._

 _ **Books** in this fanfiction are very symbolic. The first scene in this story is Percy trying to get his books from the twins, whom had stolen them from him. The driving force behind him running away was the books ( **six books, as in all the Weasley children excluding Percy**). The following day, after he's run off, Molly had a book for him in the morning (signifying Percy, i.e. **including him... in a very dissociative way that is because the other six are missing** ). It is yet again symbolic later on when there is an accumulation of books on the shelf as the years has passed... the books accumulating to the point where Percy has run out of room to put them in and had being forced to make the infamous book bed out of them. The books in this case reflected as the **implied guilt** that the family continued to feel all those years (even after!) for giving him a reason to run away from his home. Percy's first complaint was that he did not have enough books. Later on, he did make quite a few quips about how he didn't know where to put his books because there was so many. Percy seems to miss this as what it actually is— **i.e. a token of affection.** He is blind to it. At some point later on in the fanfiction, Percy gives away all his books for money but has only kept one book (i.e. "Prefects Who Gained Power.") There is a scene where Fred and George started throwing Percy's books to Arthur-Ares in their attempts to harm him (this scene also had "Prefects Who Gained Power" as a solitary mention), further reinforcing the significance of the book symbol. Also, there is the fact that Percy gives his books away to provide money for his daughters, i.e. take that implication as you wish but it can be seen as Percy giving away his family's love (i.e. the books) for monetary gain (money) or that he is trading away his family's love to give his family love (i.e. to be able to provide for them in a way that he felt like his family did not provide for him when he is younger.) The book symbolism is later on reintroduced as a form of affection in the epilogue when Molly reads using the only book that he has kept. _

_Another fair bit of symbolism is **Percy's room**. First, it was not very well highlighted, and thus, of no significance. The only time it starts to emerge with any significance was when Arthur tears it down. Then it is ' barer than bare' (and Arthur described the reason being that they were comforting themselves with the idea that certain things, i.e. the room were Percy's and that his presence was somehow in them. He claimed that this was a false notion) Later on, there are very vivid descriptions of his room (the blue walls, the arrangements of his closet, the multicoloured carpet). Percy was very happy with this arrangement. His room was described as very vibrant, colourful and mismatched yet Percy seemed to be oddly happy with it, despite his boring bland wardrobe. This, signifies a **childhood yearning** (which is an important part of this fanfiction as it keeps coming back again and again. **Percy has this need to be treated as an adult and when he is, tends to throws tantrums about it and insist on the fact that he's a child**. It actually keeps on happening throughout this fanfic. He has a lot of **"lost innocence"** that he wants to regain and has been deprived of a normal childhood. It is actually **WHY** Audrey is so much older than him. It's because he wants someone to treat him like an adult but also wants to be the child in the relationship). Later on, his 'room' becomes the cell in the ward. It just described as **dim and dark** and signifies Percy's brush with his darkness (his 'fear' of the dark versus his need to embrace it). After that, his room becomes the shed and he describes the walls as an **"unclean yellow,"** a reference to  The Yellow Wallpaper, a short story regarding mental illness. It was again, used as a way to describe Percy's state. He has made numerous statements in various chapters that he does not like the colour of the wall and has mentioned that it reminds him of cheap raincoats his mother has bought (i.e. implying that he has a poor association with the colour.) It is described at the end as well when Molly mentions that Arthur doesn't have the heart to change the colour of the shed because they thought that Percy liked the colour. This is a **dissociation** from Percy and his family, i.e. **their best intentions, their thoughts of him vs what he actually**_ ** _thinks_.** _This whole fanfiction in the beginning was meant to show the dissociation ("Percy couldn't have defeated Lestrange") up until the end, where they are well meaning and love him but completely dissociated from Percy._

 _The **lake scene** with Adrian Pucey returns as the hypothermia scene with Marcus. Adrian couldn't swim and Percy had a belief that Marcus couldn't swim (Marcus disproves this later on). This are very loosely related to one another, especially because Percy had been fantasising about Adrian's dismay at the same point that he has been fantasising about Marcus' dismay. Take the correlation as  weakly or as strongly as you wish. They are meant to be (very) loosely related to another. In both cases, however, Percy saves them. In the first (Adrian's), he is also indirectly the reason why he fell into the water in the first place. _

_Though this is obvious, I would still like to say this for those that might have missed it: the first indicator of Percy's love for the destruction is not actually the scene where he is drunk and accidentally tells his mother, but rather the scene where **he starts to destroy Ginny's doll.** It is later on implicated during the flashback scene in his confrontation with Ares where he says that he wants to tear out Terence's eye (I believe) like he did with Ginny's doll. _

_Although Percy has already explained it when he was telling Ares his 'story' during the last chapter, **his high tolerance to the cold is related to the fact that he is 'fed' by the darkness as he liked to call it.** The instances that he felt cold (i.e. the flashback scene with Terence, the feeling of coldness when he was looking at a hypothermic Marcus) is associated with a feeling of **hopeless and dread.** This is hammered back at the end where Molly describes Percy's body as cold. There are many indications in this fanfiction of the need to keep Percy 'warm' and those that keep attempting to do it, i.e. the chapter where Percy keeps on getting clothes from people to be kept warm (from Adrian's mum, from Terence, from his own mum, from Penelope), the scene where Molly has made a blanket and tried to make it smell like Percy because she missed him, etc. There are many little bits here and there—some intentional, some not of winter clothing and Percy wearing the bare minimum even when others tell him to stay warm._

 _Although also explained, Percy's 'fear' of the dark is **not an actual fear**. It is a fear of embracing it. **Avis** was named so because Avis means "bird", i.e. referring to the fact that Penelope ate a canary cream and turned into a bird just as she was giving birth. Also, Percy **did mention he memorised everyone's handwriting but didn't recognise the handwriting of the bloke that wrote the letter**. There **is ** an explanation for that. It was mentioned that Marcus typically uses Quick-Quills to write information from before. It is implied that he's written the letter **with his own hand (with or without his glasses), which lead to Percy not being able to decipher it**. Because he has not familiarised himself with Marcus' actual handwriting. _

_With that aside, there is also another important part of this fanfiction, i.e. parallels. **Ares and Percy** were described as equals and mirrors of each other, but they are not the only parallels or mirrors. _

**_Percy and Oliver_** _: to Oliver, Percy was the Slytherin epileptic that still somehow managed to get unconditional love from his family **because he shares the same blood as them** and no matter what Oliver does, he is not worthy of them and will always be compared to Percy. To Percy, Oliver was the perfect Gryffindor Quidditch playing child that got unconditional love from Percy's family even though he did **not** share blood with them. They were jealous of each other for the **same exact reason** basically. They are both very stubborn characters with very specific ideas about each other. The only time that their ideas of each other has implied to change was towards the end (and that was mostly Percy's opinion too.) Oliver's stayed pretty firm throughout the whole thing._

 _Oliver as an Animagus was a very interesting plotline. It was not branched very well, but it was implied very much so in the beginning—then 'forgotten' about, and then mentioned again in much later chapters. He has mentioned his want to be adopted multiple times, and the adoption story was a very important key in the development of Oliver in the first place. Oliver has a very keen need to be wanted, to belong. He is a very genuine character and writing him was almost as easy as writing Percy (initially, it was even easier to write Oliver because he is meant to be so pure.) It is implied many times that he had feelings for Marcus. I did not want to go the traditional route and have them be together (though tempting) because of the fact that I feel like this is done too often._

 _ **Others ** (I won't describe it, but I hope you can see what I was trying to do): **Penelope/Audrey, Percy/Lucy** (albeit this is less strong), **Arthur/Percy**_ _(again, less strong). as well as each Greek God with their vessels: Ares/Percy (obvious), Penelope/Aphrodite (her issue with beauty in general and her jealousy of Holly), Marcus/Apollo (his father could see the future, i.e. the Oracle, and his life is based on healing). There are many parallels as well with Percy and Perseus, the God that destroyed Medusa (Penelope and her snake hair), the lightning bolt that destroyed the commons (Zeus), and him summoning_ _Pegasus during a fit. The manticore scene loosely is related as well, because the manticore is a Greek creature._

 _I was going to write this fanfiction in a different way. **Percy was supposed to turn into the dark side. He was meant to succumb to Ares. He was meant to be evil. He was actually meant to kill Molly (his mother, not his daughter) and spare Arthur because he wanted Arthur to suffer. Molly was supposed to even accept death because it's Percy that's killing her, that she tells him that she forgives him, that she blames herself. The final scene I had in mind was one where he is defeated (by Oliver Wood) and that he turns out to be the hero of the day. It was supposed to be extremely disturbing (more so than this reawakened statue Percy). It was supposed to be more Arthur/Percy centric, but the whole fanfiction is leaning more towards Percy's relationship with his mother (as evident by the last where he said his mother has promised him a better home.)** I chose to write it in this manner because I wanted Percy to use his disability as an ability and I thought that that would be more memorable than adding 20 chapters of Percy descending into the darkness and going on a twisted killing spree. Though I really did want Oliver to be right about Percy succumbing. It would've been interesting if Oliver was giving warnings and people were continually ignoring them, because 'it's Percy.' _

_I've forgotten what else, but hopefully, whatever I've missed is all self-explanatory! I could write sections and paragraphs about the ' home', 'hunger' and 'darkness' metaphors but they've been repeated again and again and I think that they're pretty obvious right about now. I've only included ones that are not too lengthy to explain or ones that are lengthy but not as obvious or as emphasised on as these plotlines... Thank you for reading! I hope you leave a note or some sort of feedback. I hope that this whole thing does make sense to you all and that you've enjoyed reading. _


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